With A Twist
by Dmarx
Summary: A collection of unrelated one-shots exploring various 'what if' scenarios. #20: What if… they get handcuffed together and trapped in a basement – à la Cuffed – during 3x01 instead, right after spending the entire summer apart?
1. Chapter 1

**With A Twist**

 **#1: What if… the bomb case from _Still_ happened during season 4, while Castle was cavorting with Slaughter?**

* * *

Castle emerges from the darkened basement with Slaughter, forcing a laugh at the man's raunchy sense of humor while simultaneously suppressing the sense of unease that's settled over him after two days in the rogue detective's presence. The man has no boundaries, no respect, no moral compass, it would seem, and it's making Castle horribly uncomfortable.

Especially now that it looks like they're about to arrest the wrong man.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, extracts it to find a flood of notifications coming in after being underground, out of service for the last hour. There's a missed call from Beckett, a voicemail too, and he's about to petulantly ignore it when he notices the five missed calls from Ryan and fear coils like a boa constrictor in his stomach.

Something is horribly wrong.

He hesitates only briefly before swiping to unlock the screen, selecting Beckett's voicemail and raising the phone to his ear. He wants to be angry at her, he _is_ angry, and hurt too. But damn it, he still loves her. And there's no way in hell he's going to sit in ignorance while the woman he loves is in trouble.

Her voice floats through the speaker right away, and he can tell instantly that she's crying as she speaks, the words broken and trembling.

 _Hey, Castle. I know things are weird between us right now and you're with Slaughter but… Something happened. We were sweeping an apartment this morning and I stepped on a bomb._

Castle's eyes widen in horror.

 _BDU is here, they're working on disarming it but… They're running out of time. Thirty minutes._

The tears are already pooling in his eyes, the dread settling like lead over his entire body as he abandons Slaughter without a second thought and dashes to the street. He doesn't know where he's going, just that he needs to get there in a hurry.

 _And I just… I'm sorry, Rick. I don't know what I did to hurt you, but I'm so sorry. You're the best partner I ever could've asked for, and… I love you. I just wanted you to know._

There's a pause, long enough that he's about to hang up, when he hears a sniffle and a sob on the other end of the phone.

 _Bye, Castle._

He's dialing Ryan before his brain catches up to his fingers.

"Castle, man, we've been trying to get ahold of you all day."

"Where is she?" he demands, voice laced with desperation as he practically launches himself into a cab.

Ryan explains the case to him during his ride to Fosse's apartment, tries to downplay the danger of the whole situation, but Castle isn't buying it.

Kate poured her heart out into his answering machine. He knows exactly how dire it is.

The cab screeches to a halt nine minutes later – thank god he wasn't all the way across town – and Castle jumps out and sprints toward the apartment building. By his calculations, Kate left the message twenty-three minutes ago.

Which means there's only seven minutes left.

"Where's Beckett?" he bellows to the first uniformed officer he sees.

"Fourth floor, but you can't be in here."

"Like hell I can't," Castle protests, unwilling to be turned away. "She's my partner."

"Sir."

"No." He wrenches his shoulder from the officer's grasp, ignoring his shouts as he dashes for the stairs with only one thought on his mind: She loves him. She loves him and she's standing on a bomb.

He has to get to her. Has to find a way to stop it. Maybe if he just pulls out all the wires again.

Castle races up all three flights taking them two steps at a time, rounds the corner and nearly collides head on with the captain of the BDU squad.

"Beckett?" he pants.

"Sir, you can't be here."

"She's my partner," he argues once again, brushing past the man. "You're not stopping me."

He ignores the captain's protests and hurries into the room, stumbling to a halt a few feet from where Beckett stands. His eyes are wide with fear, his jaw tense.

"Kate."

"Castle, what are you doing here?" she asks, equal parts surprised and desperate.

"Ryan called," he answers. It's not untrue, but he really doesn't want to talk about her message right now. Not when she's stuck motionless on a pressure plate and there are only five minutes left on the clock. If it comes down to the wire, he'll bring it up. But not right now.

He motions to a small device on the kitchen countertop. "That the detonator?"

"Yeah."

"No luck with the code?"

She shakes her head in resignation, and he can tell she's already accepted her fate. "Ryan and Espo are working on it, but…"

"Right."

"You shouldn't be here."

Castle's phone buzzes before he can reply, and he swipes to answer, puts it on speaker.

"Castle, are you with her?"

"I'm here, Ryan," Kate answers. "Anything?"

The timer on his phone counts down ominously as they listen to Ryan and Espo, who are talking them through the frantic search for the name of Fosse's son.

"William," Ryan finally exclaims after a seemingly endless silence.

"Seven letters," Castle states.

"Billy?"

"Or Willy," Ryan offers.

Esposito snorts. "What kind of mother is gonna call her kid Willy?"

"Guys," Castle cautions. They really don't have time for a silly argument right now.

And then he's following Kate's instructions, carefully typing in B-I-L-L-Y with nine seconds left on the timer. He depresses the Y and silence falls, stretching for seconds that feel like minutes until they hear the mechanical sound of the trigger un-cocking. Kate holds her breath, hardly daring to move for a long moment before stepping off the pressure plate.

They freeze, waiting in anticipation, but the clock runs out and nothing happens.

"She's off," Castle confirms, and the sound of cheers from the precinct floats through the device before he ends the call.

"Castle," Kate chokes out, relief and panic and adrenaline lending an utterly frenetic quality to her voice as she flings her arms around him, burying her face in his neck and clinging on for dear life. He hugs her back, though his embrace is more tentative; but she doesn't move, and he continues to hold her until her breathing steadies and her trembling muscles begin to calm.

"Thank you," she whispers, lifting her head at long last and leaning back just enough to meet his eyes.

"It's what partners do," he offers with a shrug, not quite meeting her gaze.

But Kate is vigorously shaking her head. The brick apartment building may still be fully intact, but the wall around her heart is in shambles, a pile of rubble at her feet. She's done holding back, done waiting. She's almost lost her chance far too many times now, and she's not going to lose him again.

"You're more than a partner, and you know it."

"Do I?" Castle challenges. He drops his arms, takes a step back, and Kate watches as the relief in his eyes hardens over, replaced by the wall she's watched him erect brick by brick ever since the Boylan Plaza bombing case.

"Castle…"

He turns, making to exit the apartment. "I shouldn't be here."

"I left you a voicemail," Kate offers, freezing him in his tracks.

"I heard," he states flatly, but he doesn't lift his head, doesn't turn.

"I…"

"Did you mean it?" The words are out before he can stop them as he whirls around, fixes her with a harsh glare. He should want to celebrate the fact that she loves him too, but he finds himself filled with doubt, finds he's not quite ready to move past the pain she's caused.

Castle sees the hurt cloud the beautiful green of her eyes and his stomach clenches into a fist. Times like this, he hates the strength of her hold on his heart. Hates that he can be so angry at her, yet still so distraught to know that he's hurting her.

"You think I would _lie_ about something like that?" she demands.

He shrugs, gaze focused on the absentminded scuffing of the floor with the toe of his right shoe. "You did before."

"What?"

"In the cemetery," Castle recites. "You remember everything, and you've been lying about it for months."

"I… that wasn't…" Kate huffs in defeat. She can't exactly deny it. "Okay, yes," she concedes, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "But I never lied about my feelings for you. On the swings, during the bombing case… I was always talking about you. Us."

"Then why lie at all?"

Kate sighs heavily, shakes her head. Disappointment at herself, he thinks. "Because I couldn't face it."

Castle raises a disapproving eyebrow. "Couldn't face the fact that I love you?"

"I couldn't face any of it," she admits, his use of present tense making her brave. "Montgomery, the bullet, you. It was all tangled together in my mind and I could barely breathe without pain, let alone work through everything that'd happened."

"You could've told me this months ago," he points out. "I'd have understood."

"Yeah," she accepts with a nod. She should have. Burke has helped her realize that. "But I'm telling you now. And I meant it," she clarifies his earlier question, approaching until she's close enough to touch. He doesn't back away, so she risks the gentle perch of her hand on his forearm. "I meant every word."

Castle reaches for Kate's other hand, catches her fingers between his own and tugs until they're toe to toe, nearly eye to eye as well thanks to her four inch heels.

"I love you," she whispers, lips so close to his own. "And after today, I don't want to waste any more time."

"Neither do I." He closes the gap between them as he speaks, sealing his lips to hers. The kiss is somehow gentle yet fierce, simultaneously filled with the vestiges of lingering anger and the overwhelming strength of his love. Kate kisses him back with equal fervor as she detangles their fingers to rest her palms against his arms, curling her fingers around his biceps. Castle's hands settle low on her hip bones, squeezing gently as they separate at last.

"No more walls," she murmurs, forehead nudging his. "No more waiting. I'm in this, Rick."

He kisses her again in reply.

* * *

Their moment is abruptly interrupted a moment later by the appearance of the BDU captain, no doubt confused as to why they're still in the unexploded building a full six minutes after the bomb was supposed to have gone off.

He clears his throat and Castle and Beckett jump apart, too enraptured in each other to have heard his approaching footfalls.

"Detective Beckett," he greets, glancing around the room and – thankfully – not mentioning the scene he just walked in on. The deactivated remote sits on the kitchen counter, the circle of paint long since abandoned. "I see the bomb has been disarmed. You're, uh, free to go."

"Right, yes," she answers awkwardly. "Thank you," she adds, extending an arm to the man.

He offers a firm handshake to Beckett, a smile and nod to Castle. And then he's gone.

"Hey, are you hungry?" Castle asks suddenly as they too exit the apartment, eager to put some space between themselves and the events that very nearly transpired here. "Because there's this place down the street that has the _best_ goat cheese omelets."

"Are you asking me on a date?" Kate teases, tossing a grin up at him as she rounds the corner of the stairwell.

"I mean, it's not fancy or anything," he answers quickly, already backtracking. "We don't have to. I can make reservations somewhere else, we can get dressed up later and go out and…"

"Castle." She turns, feet on two different steps, to interrupt his nervous rambling with a hand on his chest and a tender smile. "It's a date."

Kate waits for an answering smile before turning away and continuing down the stairs, her partner eager at her heels.

Ryan, Esposito, and Gates have arrived on the scene by the time they exit the building. Kate is careful to keep an unmistakable gap between herself and Castle in the presence of her captain, maintains the distance until she and Castle are on the way to the restaurant, down the block and firmly out of sight.

"Hey, Rick?" She turns as they come to a halt at the next intersection, extending her arms to twine his fingers with her own as they wait for the stoplight to turn. "Thanks for coming to save me."

He squeezes her hands, smiles softly, and she knows what's coming before it even crosses his lips.

"Always."

* * *

 _Thoughts? Prompts?_ _PM me here or find me on twitter (dmarx711) or tumblr (dmarx)._


	2. Chapter 2

**#2: What if… Castle had already been inside Beckett's apartment when the bomb went off in 2x17?**

* * *

It's the second evening in a row Castle is sitting on her sofa.

He'd shown up about an hour after they left the precinct holding a Remy's bag and two milkshakes, and damn it, she hadn't meant for him to figure out exactly how much she loves that place.

"I brought dinner," he offered, tentative hope in his voice and an apology in his eyes. He was clearly still taking the blame for Ben Conrad, despite her assurance that it's absolutely not his fault, and she didn't have the heart to turn him away.

So they eat dinner on her couch while chatting easily, despite the apprehension coiling like a serpent through Kate's stomach. It was never supposed to be like this between them. It wasn't ever supposed to be more than cop and shadow, a strictly professional arrangement. He was never supposed to become someone she enjoys spending time with. Someone she's beginning to trust far too much, and with more than just the details of her mother's case.

He was never supposed to become the guy she's slowly falling for.

But he needs the company tonight, so she pushes the unease aside and keeps up the flow of dialogue and their usual easy banter until her milkshake is empty and the haunted darkness has vanished from his eyes.

Eventually the conversation reaches a natural lull and she excuses herself to finally take a shower – she'd been just about to when he knocked on her door – leaving him alone in her living room.

Kate sighs heavily as she soaps up her body, trying but failing to ignore the suspiciously Lanie-sounding voice in the back of her head asking why she's breaking from her normal every other day schedule to shave her legs for the second day in a row.

She forces herself to suppress the thought. She's just tired and she mixed up the days, and she's not going to stop halfway through.

It certainly has nothing to do with the man sitting on her sofa.

* * *

Ordinarily Castle would take the time alone in her apartment to snoop, but something holds him back. A niggling feeling in his mind that he can't quite put his finger on, but he's fairly certain it has to do with their now-closed case. Something about it doesn't add up. It was too neat, too easy.

They're missing something.

Times like this, he hates that he has a writer's mind, his brain already playing out various scenarios. What if Ben Conrad faked his death? What if he has a partner? What if someone else comes for Kate? He never wanted to put her in danger.

His phone vibrates in his pocket then, startling him from his thoughts. He retrieves the device; a reply from Alexis flashes across the screen – _have fun with dinner_ , it says, with a winky face at the end.

Castle is thankful for the interruption, forces himself to take a deep breath to calm his frantic, racing mind. Wow. That got out of hand far too quickly. He needs to relax, needs to…

Hand.

Ben Conrad is left handed, but the man they saw in the window was holding the gun in his right hand. The man in the window wasn't Ben Conrad.

"Kate!" Castle yells, forgetting that she's in the shower, likely unable to hear him over the running water.

He practically launches himself off the sofa, dashes down her hallway just in time to collide with a dripping wet Kate Beckett as she emerges from the bathroom clad in only a towel.

"Kate," he breathes again, though the urgency has momentarily evaporated.

Steam and the scent of cherries wafts through the open bathroom door, the dancing cloud of vapor haloed by the bathroom light that casts a golden glow. Water droplets cling to the ends of her hair, pooling in the hollows of her collarbones, and Castle is briefly distracted before her voice brings him back.

"Castle, what the heck?"

"It wasn't Ben Conrad," he gasps.

"What?"

"The man in the window," he clarifies. "It wasn't Ben Conrad. He wasn't the killer."

"What are you saying?" Kate asks, eyes narrowing. He can tell she's torn between exasperation and believing him, and he _has_ to make her understand.

"The killer is still alive."

"Castle, we saw his dead body…"

She's interrupted by a beeping sound and they both freeze in horror as a familiar voice echoes through the air.

 _Goodbye, Nikki. Goodbye, Nikki._

Kate's eyes widen, meeting his in horror.

She grabs his arm, yanking him into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. "Go, go, go!" she exclaims, diving for her bathtub just as the explosion rocks her apartment, tearing the bathroom door off its hinges and flinging it towards them.

The force of the impact momentarily stuns her as flames erupt all around them and fragments of her apartment begin to rain down on them like confetti. Castle is lying on top of her in the tub, half cradling her body, half covering it, and if not for the fact that everything she owns just blew up, she'd think it sweet that he's trying to protect her.

They lay frozen for a long moment before Kate takes a breath, coughing as smoky air fills her lungs. Castle can feel the coughs painfully tear through her chest beneath his hand, squeezes gently in comfort, and Kate's entire body jolts.

"Castle," she rasps.

"What?"

"That's my boob."

He jerks his hand back as though he's been burned, slams his elbow against the cast iron bathtub in his haste to release her. He'd wrapped his arms around her as they fell, hadn't even realized…

"Sorry."

Her response is lost in the wave of coughing that overtakes him this time.

"You okay?" Castle finally questions, still semi huddled over her body in case the ceiling decides to start caving in.

"Fine," she manages. "We gotta get out of here."

Castle forces himself to sit back, waving an arm in front of his face to dissipate the cloud of ash.

"Oh, you're completely naked," he suddenly observes.

 _Real eloquent, Rick._

"Castle."

"Where's your towel?"

"On the floor, I think."

He leans over the curved metal edge, spots the vanishing piece of cotton. "Uh, it's on fire."

Kate pulls herself into a seated position, tugging her knees up and crossing her arms over her chest. "What about the bathrobe?" she questions, glancing around in confusion.

"Also on fire."

"Don't look," she hisses as he turns back to her.

"We have to go, Kate. Not really the time for modesty."

She huffs a sigh. "Give me your shirt."

He's untucking the fabric immediately, tugging the soft cashmere over his head and handing it to Kate, leaving him in just an undershirt.

"Don't look," she instructs again.

Castle turns and steps out of the tub, his ankle twinging and his knee nearly giving out as his left leg takes his weight.

"Ow," he curses. He's fairly certain he's going to have multiple bruises from their crashing descent.

Kate turns as he's finally steady on his feet, his sweater draped loosely over her body, but a vee of skin remains at the collar and her long legs are almost entirely exposed. He'll never be able to look at this sweater the same again.

Castle swallows hard and forces himself to focus on the crisis at hand. Flaming apartment. They need to get out before it collapses.

"Here." He extends a hand and Kate grasps his forearm as she hobbles out of the tub.

"You okay?"

"Just a little bruised," she answers, allowing him to loop his other arm around her waist and guide her through the blazing rubble.

They pick their way through the flames, stepping around the wreckage of furniture and splinters of wood, finding the quickest path to her door. Sirens already echo up the streets, red and blue lights flashing through the darkness from a couple blocks away by the time they make it out to the street.

Kate shakes off Castle's hold as they step out onto the sidewalk.

"You're bleeding," he comments, indicating her forehead.

"I hit my head on the faucet."

"Are you okay?" He gently brushes his thumb over the skin near the cut, his touch a soft contrast to the chaos that surrounds them.

Kate ducks, steps away from the gentleness of his caress. "It's fine."

"You're bleeding," he reiterates.

"Yeah, and my apartment's on fire," she snaps, far more forcefully than he deserves. She knows he's worried, knows he's just trying to help, but she's not exactly in the mood for tenderness. She's pissed as hell and determined to nail this guy, whoever he is. Not to mention the fact that she's confused about her feelings for her partner. Feelings she really doesn't have time for right now. "I don't think a little cut is the priority right now."

FDNY and EMS roll into the scene a moment later and the street corner becomes a hive of activity. Castle gets separated from Kate in the hustle, finds himself being tugged into an ambulance by a woman in a medic uniform. He tells her she's fine when she asks, but the truth is he's been so worried about Kate, he hasn't even bothered to assess his own well-being. Nothing hurts too terribly – that he's noticed – but that's probably just the adrenaline.

The woman takes his pulse and blood pressure, shines a light in his eyes, assesses his head and limbs for any sign of serious injury, but other than a couple bruises and sore spots, nothing seems too out of the ordinary.

She finally allows him to step out of the ambulance just as Ryan and Esposito arrive on the scene.

"Castle, is she here?"

"In another ambulance, I think," he guesses. He's sure EMS decided her head wound should take precedence, despite Kate's lack of concern.

They find her around the corner, stepping out of a second ambulance with a wrap on her wrist and a bandage on her forehead. She's wearing a loose pair of pants that Castle doesn't recognize and is currently pulling on an NYPD windbreaker that's about three sizes too large.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks, giving Castle a quick once-over.

"Fine, you?"

She shrugs offhandedly, hastily averts her eyes as his meet hers, bubbling over with concern and something she's unwilling to put a name to. "Fine."

Ryan assesses Beckett, flicks his eyes to the author's white t-shirt and lack of jacket. "You were here?" he asks.

Castle nods.

Espo quirks an eyebrow in disbelief. "Two nights in a row, huh?"

"It was just dinner," Castle protests.

Espo glances pointedly at Kate. "Wearing each other's clothing?"

She huffs in irritation. "I was in the shower and everything of mine was on fire."

"And you were, what?" Espo challenges the author. "Just hanging out while she showered?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Depends on what your intentions were."

Kate holds up a hand, putting an end to the questioning. "Okay, we're done here."

"Fire's out, you can head on up," Montgomery states as he approaches the group, observing the scene astutely. If he notices Castle and Beckett's relative states of (un)dress, he doesn't comment.

Kate turns away without a word, striding purposefully towards the building and leaving the four men confused and concerned in her wake.

* * *

When Montgomery agrees that she should stay at the loft after Shaw boots them off the case, panic flares up with a vengeance. Kate's been on edge all day, and not just because of the explosion.

She knows Castle's boob grab was accidental, but it sent a different kind of explosion through her despite the dire circumstances, heat spreading like wildfire in her veins. She's been able to suppress the memory for most of the day but it's invading her mind again now that she doesn't have a case to focus on. The last thing she needs is to be in close proximity to him.

"Consider in an order," Montgomery demands, ignoring her protests.

Well, then. Apparently she's going home with Castle.

* * *

For the third night in a row, Kate finds herself in a casual situation with him. And for the third night in a row, she finds herself chewing her bottom lip nervously.

She trusts Castle, trusts his intentions.

But in her current state, she's not sure she trusts her own.

She thinks she's done a decent job of hiding it, but she's devastated about the explosion. Her father's watch seems to have been reduced to ashes and she hasn't had a chance to fully dig through everything else and determine what other important items may have been damaged beyond repair. Clothes and furniture can be replaced but photos and heirlooms can't.

Castle seems to sense her turmoil, her desire for comfort, and he's drawing her into a hug before she can protest.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, enfolding her firmly into his embrace. Kate loops her arms loosely around his waist, finds herself unsure of where to put her hands, how tightly to hold him. They don't normally _do_ this.

"For what?" she asks instead.

He sighs heavily. "I wish I'd figured it out sooner. FBI could've swept your apartment and disarmed the bomb."

Kate lifts her head, meets his eyes with a piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Castle. We've been over this. None of this is your fault."

"I know," he concedes, though she's fairly certain he only half believes her. "But I still wish I could've done something to prevent it."

Kate sighs, sinks into his embrace once again. The proximity is setting off multiple alarms but for once she suppresses them. She has a feeling he needs this and, if she's being honest with herself, she does too.

She curls her fingers, knuckles coasting gently along the line of his vertebrae through the fabric of his sweater. Castle relaxes into her at the gentle touch and she tightens her other arm around his hips, clings to him as he's clinging to her.

They both could've died today. Right now, they need a moment to just be.

Together.

* * *

Castle isn't sure how long they've been wrapped up in each other when the soft whisper of her exhale fans across the skin of his neck and his body is wracked with an involuntary shiver. He's not used to being this close to her, to having all of his senses surrounded by her.

He knows Kate feels it because she lifts her head and she's close, so close. Castle freezes and time seems to stand still for a long moment. Their gazes meet and lock, knowledge in both sets of eyes; she can tell he's going to kiss her, and Castle knows she's not going to stop him.

She doesn't.

His eyes fall closed as his lips meet hers softly, a tentative whisper of a kiss. It's over as quickly as it began but they separate only by a fraction of an inch as two shuddering exhales are released into the space between them. The waning adrenaline of the last 24 hours combines with a fresh shot of adrenaline at the feeling of _finally_ kissing Kate Beckett; Castle is fairly certain his entire body is trembling.

It's Kate who moves now, closing the gap and kissing him again. Castle cups her cheek and she leans into his touch, captures his lips a third time.

"Stay," he murmurs as they separate, forehead coming to rest against Kate's.

"My apartment blew up," she points out. "Where else would I go?"

"I meant down here," he clarifies nervously. "Tonight. With me."

Kate straightens, meets his eyes in surprise; in them, she sees the lingering fear, the unease, the desperation and desire she knows are reflected in hers as well.

The rational part of her brain is screaming _no_. She's confused, emotionally wrung-out, and so far beyond exhausted.

But if she's honest with herself, she's been secretly entertaining the possibility for a while now. She almost took the leap the first night he showed up with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Jordan Shaw's instructions to decompress. She almost certainly would have last night if everything hadn't gone up in flames.

Literally.

The aftermath of losing her apartment may be what's pushing her over the edge, but they've been teetering at the brink of the cliff for months now, waiting to take the final leap.

Kate offers him a tentative nod, a timid smile. "Okay."

Castle steps back but doesn't let her go, hands trailing down her arms until his fingers twine with hers. He leads her through his office, across the threshold into his bedroom. Their steps are tentative, his hold on her fingers loose – as though he's afraid she'll flee if he holds too tightly.

He's probably not wrong.

Castle pauses to close the door, leaving Kate to survey her surroundings. The room is bathed in the overwhelming scent of him, masculine just like the décor. She feels her stomach tying itself into knots, apprehension building now that she's here in his space, surrounded entirely by him. Now that this is actually happening.

The soft flutter of fingers at her hip bones draws her back from the edge of her growing anxiety and she turns in his arms, forces herself to meet his gaze. It's not the first time their eyes have met today but this time the blue of his irises is entirely replaced by shimmering black, darkened with pure desire.

"You sure about this," Castle asks, swallowing heavily. She watches it ripple down his throat, the lines of his muscles tense. He's clearly as nervous as she is, and the tension in the room is thick, palpable.

Kate nods before she loses her nerve. She wants this. Wants him. She has for a long time. She finds herself worried about the aftermath, but they can deal with that later.

Right now, she just needs to feel, to forget. To help him forget, too.

"Yes."

Castle is cupping her face the moment the word leaves her mouth, palms spreading wide across the line of her jaw and fingers weaving into her hair. He kisses her, confidently this time, lips moving over hers with intent.

A spark ignites the moment their lips meet, vaporizing the apprehension and replacing it with a very different kind of tension. Castle tilts her jaw to change the angle, deepen the kiss, and her lips part on a moan, granting him entrance.

Kate's fingers slip beneath the cashmere of the sweater she borrowed mere hours ago, finding the soft white cotton of his t-shirt and tugging it from his waistband. Castle shudders as she touches his skin for the first time, nips at her bottom lip in retaliation. Her palms trail up his back, spreading wide on either side of his spine and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She blazes a path back down, fingertips sneaking beneath the edge of his waistband, and Castle groans, severing the connection of their mouths and dropping his forehead into the crease of her neck.

"God," he breathes, the syllable a coarse, broken thing. He's so utterly on edge and they're not even naked yet.

He's so not going to survive this.

* * *

He does survive, but just barely.

His heart is racing, his head is spinning, and his entire body seems to have the structural integrity of Jello as he collapses on top of her.

Kate doesn't seem to be faring much better. She's sprawled on her back beneath him, arms draped limply across his back, chest rising and falling rapidly. Castle buries his nose in her neck and she shivers, her entire body still thoroughly overstimulated.

He rolls off after a long moment, collapses onto the bed beside her, utterly spent. Kate looks relaxed and sated, softer than he's ever seen her as she curls beneath the covers, face mashed into the pillows.

He cups the back of her skull, presses a kiss to her temple.

"Night, Kate."

She smiles gently, peels her eyes open and blinks up at him lazily. "Night, Castle."

* * *

He wakes to the feeling of lips on his skin, soft flutters trailing down the line of his spine. Castle sighs contentedly, reaches an arm behind him in search of her; his palm lands on her ass and he squeezes gently.

"You stayed," he murmurs in awe.

Kate hums a reply, tries not to be offended that he's surprised. In his defense, ordinarily she probably would have fled.

"Time's it?"

"Early," she answers, lips against his neck as her hand settles low on his hip.

Castle rolls onto his back, lifting his head to capture her lips in a firm kiss. Morning breath be damned. It's his first time waking up next to Kate Beckett and he's absolutely going to enjoy every second of it.

She swings a leg over his body, rises to settle onto his hips, and for the second time in eight hours, Castle finds himself in bed with Kate straddling him.

There's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

* * *

When he wakes a second time, she's gone. But he hears voices in the kitchen, the clattering of pots and pans, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lures him from beneath the covers in which they were thoroughly tangled mere hours ago.

Castle pauses to savor the lingering scent of Kate on his sheets, the memory of her hands in his hair, her lips on his skin. The last 24 hours have run the gamut from terrifying to exhilarating. He knows the killer is still out there, but he'd rather focus on his newfound bliss for a few moments longer.

His mother and Alexis are in the kitchen when he emerges, erasing his plans for any type of morning make-out session, but it warms his heart just the same to see Kate chatting easily with his family as she moves about the kitchen, scrambling eggs and arranging crispy strips of bacon on a plate.

He doesn't know exactly what they are, doesn't know what they'll become, but the fact that his family already lo… _likes_ her as much as he does is encouraging.

Kate's eyes meet his as he crosses the living room and she smiles shyly, ducking her chin to hide the fingers of heat climbing her neck. Castle notices his mother glancing between them, assessing the scene knowingly as Kate passes him a coffee and her hand lingers on the mug just this side of too long.

Martha smiles to herself but wisely doesn't speak. It's not her place.

But Kate looks happy, and so does her son. She doesn't need to ask to know that something has changed in the last few days. Martha helps herself to a mug of coffee before sneaking away. She won't share her suspicions with Alexis, but she nudges the teen out of the kitchen as well.

Whatever bubble Kate and her son have settled into, she wants to let them stay there for as long as possible.

* * *

 _Thoughts? Prompts? Send them my way!_

 _Twitter: dmarx711_

 _Tumblr: dmarx_


	3. Chapter 3

_Really quickly before we get started..._

 _Thank you to Andy for always being my brainstormer/cheerleader/typo-catcher :)_

 _Thank you to everyone who has sent prompts so far. I'm saving them all on my laptop and will write them as inspiration strikes. I can't promise to be timely, but I can promise to do my best to fill every single one._

 _And thank you to all of you for reading, tweeting/retweeting/reblogging the links, and for reviewing. I may not always have time to reply, but please know that I appreciate every single one._

* * *

 **#3: What if… Castle gives an honest response to "sleep with whoever you want, the more the merrier," with Lanie and Alexis witnessing the awkwardness?**

 **Prompt by Lou, Katherine, and Alex**

* * *

"Yes, okay," Castle concedes as he, Beckett, and Lanie stride into the morgue. "We slept together. It was a long time ago. What's the big deal?"

"There is no 'big deal,'" Kate answers, words laced with snark and exasperation. "Sleep with whoever you want. The more, the merrier."

Castle whirls around angrily. He's not exactly proud of how things ended with Sophia, but he's even more displeased that he's having this stupid argument with the woman he loves over a woman he slept with a few times twelve years ago.

"You know damn well the only person I want to sleep with is you."

The silence that falls over the morgue is deafening.

Beckett opens her mouth to speak, closes it again, opens it, but no words are coming out. Because how does she even begin to respond to that?

"Kate…"

The clearing of a throat behind them simultaneously interrupts Castle's words – just as well, he doesn't know what he's planning to say anyway – and saves Kate the need to speak. They turn in unison to find Alexis standing awkwardly in the background with a clipboard in her hands and a look of mortification on her face.

Lanie stands beside them, stunned into silence.

"Uh," Castle clears his throat, tries again. "Alexis. I didn't know you were here."

"Clearly," the girl deadpans, eyes reflecting her extreme discomfort.

Lanie abruptly crosses towards the door, indicating with her index finger and a tilt of her head for the teen to do the same. "Don't we have those other tests running? We should go check on them."

Alexis follows without protest, trailing the ME through the double doors and into the hallway of the morgue.

And then Castle and Beckett are alone in the room, surrounded by the oppressive awkwardness of his blurted confession.

* * *

"And here I thought the dead bodies would be the grossest part of working with you," Alexis mutters as the doors swing closed behind them.

"Yeah, sorry about that," the ME apologizes with a grimace as they step across the hall and into a room on the opposite side. "Let's leave those two alone for a while, give 'em a chance to have a much overdue conversation."

There _is_ actually some work to be done so Lanie busies the teen with some paperwork while she heads into the office to organize her desk, check her email. These inane tasks keep them occupied for a few minutes, but eventually they reach the point where no more work can be done until they're back in the other room.

Alexis leans back against the wall, sighs heavily.

"Recovering from the awkwardness?" Lanie jokes.

The teen rolls her eyes. "Sadly, I've overheard worse."

"I have no trouble believing that."

Alexis wrinkles her nose in discomfort, casts a glance over her shoulder in the direction of her father and Beckett. They're still standing in the same place, engaged in what is clearly a serious conversation.

Lanie follows Alexis's gaze, hazards a guess. "You don't like it."

The girl whips her head around, long ponytail trailing after her. "What?"

"Beckett and your dad," Lanie clarifies.

"I don't dislike it," the girl hedges. The detective may not be her favorite person in the world at the present time, but she doesn't _hate_ her, doesn't entirely _hate_ the idea of them together. "Kate's always been nice to me. And I know she makes my dad happy. But she just keeps hurting him."

"Yeah," Lanie sympathizes. She's been watching the two of them unintentionally hurt each other for the better part of the last three years. "But sometimes that's part of being in love."

Alexis fixes her with pleading blue eyes, the very same look she's seen on Castle's face on various desperate occasions. "What if she breaks his heart again?"

"She won't," the ME promises, resting a soft hand on the redhead's shoulder.

The teen folds her arms across her chest defiantly. "You can't know that."

"No, I can't," Lanie concedes on a sigh. Sometimes she forgets that Alexis has a more realistic view of the world than most girls her age. "But I've known Kate for years and she's never looked at _anyone_ the way she looks at your dad. She might not be ready to admit it, but trust me. She's crazy about him, too."

Alexis softens slightly but still looks skeptical, concerned. "What if she's never ready to admit it?"

"She will be," Lanie answers, with certainty this time.

"You can't know that either," Castle's daughter protests.

But Lanie just smiles, nods towards the window to draw Alexis's attention to the scene that's unfolding. Castle and Kate are toe to toe, happiness painting smiles across their faces as the detective leans in, closes the distance between them and brushes a soft kiss to Castle's lips.

Kate's smile widens as they separate, and Castle rests his forehead against hers, corners of his eyes crinkling in pure happiness. They're speaking softly and whatever the author has just said, it has Kate laughing bashfully while he watches in pure adoration.

He catches her around the waist, leans in for another chaste kiss, but this one quickly deepens as Kate loops both arms around Castle's neck, tugging him closer.

Alexis turns away from the window, ducks her head in embarrassment. She's seen enough.

Lanie too averts her eyes, giving the two some privacy. They can figure out what happened to Blakely's body later.

Right now, Castle and Beckett deserve to have their moment.

And as soon as this case is over, Lanie is dragging her best friend out to lunch and demanding to hear every single detail.

* * *

 _Thoughts? Prompts? Send them my way!_

 _Twitter: dmarx711_

 _Tumblr: dmarx_


	4. Chapter 4

**#4: What if… Castle was in the interrogation room with Kate in _47 Seconds_?**

 **Prompt by Lou**

* * *

 _"Do you want to know trauma? I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it."_

 _Kate fixes Bobby with a stern glare._

 _"And so do you."_

The room falls silent for a long moment. But it's not Bobby who speaks next. It's Castle.

"Since when?"

Kate whirls around in surprise, so caught up in the interrogation that she'd forgotten he was even there. Her eyes widen in shock as she registers what's happened, the words she just allowed to escape in his presence. Words she's only ever admitted to her therapist.

"Castle…"

"Answer the question," he interrupts, eyes hard.

"I…" she hedges, glancing from the suspect to Castle and back again. But this isn't the time for the knock-down-drag-out fight this has the potential to turn into. She has a job to do, a bomber to catch. "We'll talk about this later."

Castle rises angrily, shoving the chair back so hard it tips over and crashes to the ground as he strides towards the exit. "I'm sure we will," he mutters under his breath, anger, hurt, and disbelief coloring his tone a dark shade of fury as he yanks on the knob, flings the door open with far too much force.

It bounces off the wall and slams behind him, echoing through the small room, but Kate barely hears it over the blood rushing in her ears and the violent pounding of her heart against her ribcage.

Shit.

* * *

Kate takes a moment to compose herself; deep breaths in and out, in and out, until her heart rate is sort of under control and she can no longer feel the blood coursing through her body quite so angrily.

She rights the chair he upended, returns to her seat and draws upon her years of practice with compartmentalization to complete the interview, getting as much information as she can manage out of Bobby before letting him go. It's far from her best or most thorough interrogation, and they have a case to solve, a killer to catch, but she can't focus.

Apparently there's a threshold for her ability to compartmentalize.

"Is Castle still here?" Beckett asks as she exits the interrogation room a few minutes later, finds Esposito walking by with a stack of papers in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"Nah, he was but he left in a hurry about twenty minutes ago." Espo cocks his head. "Something happen?"

"You could say that," Kate mutters, coming to a stop at her desk and reaching for her jacket, phone, and keys. "I have to go."

"Hey," Espo catches her arm as she yanks up the zipper on her jacket with far more force than necessary. "Everything okay?"

Kate sighs heavily, averts her eyes and finds herself blinking back tears. She told herself she wasn't going to cry over this, but she can already tell it's a battle she's destined to lose. "No."

"What'd he do?"

She shakes her head, still unable to look Espo in the eye. "Nothing."

"I'll kick his ass for you," the Hispanic detective offers.

Kate huffs a broken laugh. She loves him like a brother, knows she can always trust him to look out for her. But this time, she's not the one who needs looking out for. She's the one who deserves the kick in the ass.

"It's my fault, Javi," she says softly, finally lifting sad eyes to his. "I have to go fix it. Cover for me?"

He rests a hand on her shoulder, offers a gentle smile. "Go. I gotcha covered."

* * *

Castle ignores her calls, doesn't answer her texts, so she goes straight to the loft. He's not there, but the expression on Martha's face when she answers the door tells Kate that he's been there, that his mother knows what's happened.

"Do you know where he is?" Kate pleads, her own broken heart spilling across her face for all to see. "I need to fix this, Martha."

His mother shakes her head, says she doesn't know where he's gone. Kate can't be sure if she's telling the truth or protecting her son, but she doesn't press, simply nods and thanks her before turning to go.

"Katherine," Martha speaks in a low voice, resting a firm hand on the detective's arm before she can depart. "I know it's not my place to give advice, but please. Be honest with him. If you don't feel the same, he deserves to know."

"If I don't feel the…" Kate's mouth falls open in dismay and the tears that have been balancing on her eye lashes for the entirety of her trip to the loft finally spill over the edge like a somnolent waterfall. "Is that what he thinks?"

No wonder he's ignoring her.

Martha holds up both hands, takes a step back. She's not about to insert herself in the middle of this situation any more than she already has. "I wasn't there so I don't know what gave him that impression."

"Martha, I _love_ him."

The words are out before she even realizes it. The words she's been holding inside for so long. Words she was intending to confess to Castle with a smile on her face, not to his mother in a panic with desperate tears in her eyes.

But even though the circumstances are all wrong, it feels nice to have finally set them free.

The older woman rests a gentle hand on Kate's arm, the soft touch drawing the detective's eyes to hers. "Go find him," Martha encourages softly.

Kate nods and forces a failed attempt at a smile, whispers her thanks. It's been so long since she's received any sort of motherly advice, affection, or encouragement, and she misses it with a fierceness she's not sure she realized until she met Castle's mother.

After the door closes behind her, Kate takes a moment to collect herself. She forces herself to take a few deep breaths, attempts to steady the trembling of her lungs and the frantic tattoo of her heart. Her hands are shaking as she lifts one to swipe at her tears, wiping away the water and the streaks of smudged mascara that come with it.

Kate leans back against the hallway wall, forces herself to think.

Where would he have gone?

* * *

She finds him in the basement of the Old Haunt.

He has his back to her as she descends into the dimly lit room and she sees the rise of his elbow, the flick of his wrist as he lifts a glass to his lips and takes a swig of what she assumes is whiskey. He doesn't move as she arrives at the bottom of the stairwell and takes a tentative step into the room.

The floor board creaks beneath her foot and Castle whirls around, arm raised as he hurls the now-empty tumbler across the room. Kate reacts just in time, ducking and gasping as the glass crashes into the wall above her head and shards of glass rain down around her.

"Castle, what the hell?"

His eyes widen in shock, the layer of glaze clarifying slightly in recognition, awareness. Kate wants to believe he wouldn't actually throw something at her, and as he glances around the room with a combination of heartbreak and horror painting his face, she realizes he's only now becoming aware of the scene that's just unfolded. That he had no idea she was here.

"Be…" he clears his throat, tries again. "Beckett."

She rises slowly, shaking her arms to dislodge the pieces of glass that have settled in the creases of her coat sleeves. She pinches the front of the jacket, pulling the fabric taut, and a few more pieces of glass scatter, skittering across the basement floorboards.

"Are you okay?" he manages as the displaced shards join the others that now paint his office floor.

"I'm fine," she snaps, the syllables harsh to cover the trembling of her limbs and the violent pounding of her heart. So many emotions are swirling through her that she can't even begin to put it into words.

He looks around the room in confusion before meeting her eyes with a sharp stare. He may not be completely sober, she realizes, but he's lucid enough to remember why he's angry at her.

"What are you doing here?"

She carefully frees a piece of glass from her hair, tosses it aside in annoyance. "You know exactly why I'm here."

"If you're here to tell more lies, save your breath," he mutters, averting his eyes, but not before Kate catches a glimpse of the yellow basement lights reflecting in the pools of water he's not quite able to conceal.

"I'm here to talk about what happened."

"Right," he huffs on an exasperated exhale. "Just like we always do."

Kate folds her arms across her chest in defiance. "Will you just shut up and let me talk."

He mimics her movement. "Fine. Talk."

She opens her mouth to speak, immediately realizing that she should have used the cab ride over here to figure out what she's going to say. He's right. They don't talk about things, never have, and she's never been any good at talking anyway. She's always been more of an 'actions speak louder than words' type of person.

Castle raises an eyebrow and she thinks she catches an eye roll before he drops his arms and turns away. Giving up on her. On them.

"I'm sorry," she blurts, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She may be unsure of how to fix things, but she is sure of that.

"For what?" he snarls, still facing away from her. "Sorry for lying, or sorry that I found out?"

"Sorry for hurting you," she answers truthfully. "That was never my intention."

Castle snorts derisively, turns to face her, and he looks furious but at least he's responding to her now, at least he's fighting back. "You lied to my face and you didn't think that would hurt?"

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have just been honest with me."

"Castle, I wasn't even being honest with myself," she confesses, trying and failing to keep the desperation out of her voice. She just needs him to understand. "I was having panic attacks and nightmares, I had PTSD. I could barely make it through the day." Kate pauses to take a breath and casts a glance in his direction, notes that the hard façade is crumbling slightly as she reveals to him these unknown details of her recovery.

"I spent all summer trying to forget what happened, just trying to get the panic attacks to stop. I didn't know how else to deal with it. I lied to my dad. I lied during my psych eval," she admits, eyes lowering in shame. "I just wanted to be okay again."

She sees the first flickers of empathy shining through the alcohol and the pain and the anger, sees bits of understanding creeping into his wary gaze.

"When I saw you again, you were upset," she recollects, taking a tentative step towards him. "And you figured out right away that I was faking it and that I wasn't okay. That was when I realized that…" she shakes her head, "…I'd made the wrong decision. So I went back to therapy, told him everything." Kate pauses to tuck her hair behind her ears, lifts her eyes to catch a glimpse of his. They're fixed on her and she holds his gaze, wills him to understand.

He shoves his hands into his pants pockets, opens his mouth to speak, and she can see him working the words around on his tongue so she remains quiet, tilts her head in encouragement.

It takes him a moment but he finally settles on, "I didn't know you were seeing a therapist."

Kate shrugs lightly, takes a few more steps in his direction. Bits of broken glass crunch beneath her heels, crackling in the silence. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to make any excuses. I wanted to put in the work so I could heal and we could… be together."

"You… I… we… really?" Castle stammers, and if the air in the room wasn't so tense, she'd find his babbling completely adorable.

"I mean… that's what you wanted, isn't it?" she asks tentatively, nervously catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Yes," he blurts gracelessly. "More than anything."

"Me too," she admits, the words little more than a timid whisper. "And I'm sorry I made you doubt that."

Castle's eyes soften and the line of his jaw relaxes. Kate offers a tentative smile in response and he returns the gesture.

"So, uh," he begins hesitantly, pausing to clear his throat again. "What do we do now?"

"We go catch a killer," she suggests. "And then we go home… together."

He swallows heavily and Kate watches it ripple down his throat, sees the muscles tighten in restraint.

"What about your wall?"

She takes the last three steps needed to close the distance between them, reaches for Castle's hands with her own. He doesn't protest as she coaxes them out of his pockets but his fingers curl into his palms rather than tangling with hers.

"Pretty sure it collapsed sometime yesterday."

Castle cocks his head. "Yeah?"

Kate's smile grows as he uncoils his fingers, insinuates them into the gaps between hers. "Yeah."

He uses his newfound grasp on her hands to tug her closer, dips his chin to capture her smiling lips with his own. Kate squeezes his hands, clinging tightly as the kiss ends and they separate by a fraction of a centimeter. Her heart threatens to pound its way out of her chest and her knees suddenly feel a little shaky, her internal equilibrium thrown off balance.

Is this what it feels like to open her heart and let it happen?

It's equal parts frightening and invigorating.

Castle nudges her nose with his own before tilting his chin slightly to drop a kiss to the tip. Kate's brilliant smile widens and she leans in, brushes her lips to his for a second time.

"Hey, Castle?" she murmurs as they separate.

He lists back just enough to gaze down at her, eyes alight with curiosity, a shimmering bright blue.

Kate leans in, resting her cheek against his own and bringing her lips to his ear. Her soft exhale fans across his skin and she hears his breath catch, feels him shiver. Their twined hands are trapped between their bodies, a tangle of knuckles pressed against her thighs. Kate presses even closer, eliminating every last vestige of space between them as she speaks the other truth she's been keeping from him for far too long.

"I'm in love with you."

* * *

 _Thoughts? Prompts? Send them my way!_

 _Twitter: dmarx711_

 _Tumblr: dmarx_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you all for reading and reviewing and for your enthusiasm for these little one shots! Or, in this case, a not-so-little one shot._

 _We have two prompts combined into one this time. The original prompt is at the top and the second prompt is at the end to avoid spoilers._

 _Strong T rating._

* * *

 **#5: What if… the case was just a "Jack shot Jill over Bill" situation in _Always_ so the John Woo date occurred? **

**Prompt by Lou**

* * *

Kate inserts her key into the lock and turns it with a giddy smile on her face. Castle should be arriving home from Alexis's graduation any minute now, and as soon as he does she's heading over to the loft for their John Woo movie night.

But this isn't just any movie night, and she's certain Castle knows that too. The air has been cleared after their – whatever happened these last few weeks, she's still not entirely sure what it was – and her wall has crumbled to pieces. And after their conversation last week, Kate is convinced that – for the first time ever – they're actually on the same page about their feelings.

About _them._

The excitement has been buzzing through her veins for a day and a half now, growing in intensity as the moment nears. Some of it is nerves, she thinks, at the prospect of opening her heart at last and allowing him inside. But most of it is pure anticipation and elation.

They're finally doing this.

Castle, too, has had an extra spring in his step since the moment she agreed to join him tonight and every time he's looked at her, his eyes have been sparkling with love. That last part isn't exactly new, but it's a more hopeful, more open, more inevitable kind of love that shines through now.

Love that no longer has to be kept secret.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and Kate extracts the device to see a message from the man himself.

It's a photo of the projector and giant screen that she's seen once before. A text bubble indicates he's typing something as well, and Kate finds herself grinning at her phone expectantly.

 _Pizza is on the way. Come on over!_

She feels like a teenage girl with her first crush all over again, butterflies pounding a steady rhythm in her stomach as she debates the merits of texting him back right away or waiting a minute to seem a little less eager.

After a short debate – in which logic and reason lose out to the excited quivering of her heart – she texts back a quick _Be there in 20_.

She doesn't want to be presumptuous – though she has a feeling Castle wouldn't mind in the slightest – so she grabs an oversize purse rather than an overnight bag, large enough to hold a light pair of pajamas and a change of underwear, a toothbrush and some facial wipes.

She slips out of her boots and into a pair of flats; she loves wearing heels, but she also secretly loves their height difference. She has a feeling they'll fit together perfectly this way.

Kate snags a novel from her night stand – her favorites reside there permanently – and shoves it into the purse as well as she heads for the front door, making a quick detour to the kitchen to select a bottle of wine. She knows Castle has a larger and far more expensive collection that they'll probably delve into, and she won't be at all offended if they don't end up drinking her $20 bottle of Merlot. It's more about the gesture. About setting the tone for the night.

Previewing the possibility that she just might be a little too tipsy to head home at the end of the night.

Somehow, she doesn't think Castle will mind that, either.

* * *

Castle answers the door with a broad smile on his face. He looks genuinely happy to see her, something that she'd missed with an unexpected fierceness during their rough patch.

He's dressed down from his graduation clothes into jeans and a t-shirt, and Kate tries – and fails – not to stare at the flexing muscles of his forearms as he grips the edge of the door.

"Hey," he greets happily, sparkling blue eyes shining at her. For her.

"Hi," she replies, realizing too late that she just checked him out for a solid five seconds before tugging her eyes up to his face. There's no way he didn't notice, but he doesn't comment.

Castle steps back, silently inviting her inside; she crosses the threshold, an action that seems to hold far more magnitude this evening.

"Can I, uh, get you something to drink?" He can't quite seem to conceal the edge of nerves in his voice, but it's comforting to know that she's not the only one struggling to keep her cool. And it confirms her assumption that he too is expecting more of this evening than just pizza and movies.

"I actually brought some wine," Kate answers, suddenly nervous.

Castle takes the proffered bottle with a smile. "Great. I'll pour us a glass."

He crosses to the kitchen, leaving Kate alone in the foyer to gather herself. She turns to shut the door, drops her purse on the floor off to the side. She slips out of her coat, hesitates. When she stayed with him after her apartment blew up, it became normal to walk in the door and hang her jacket in the coat closet. Now she finds herself unsure.

"There should be some extra hangers," Castle calls from across the loft.

Kate startles. Sometimes she forgets how open the floor plan is. Forgets that you can see the entryway from the kitchen.

She swallows hard, takes a moment to steady her nerves. She really needs to get a grip. "Right. Thanks."

She finds a spare hanger, nestles her jacket in amongst what appears to be predominately Martha's extensive – and colorful – coat collection, before meandering the rest of the way into the loft. Castle meets her near the sofa with two glasses of wine and a tentative smile. The pizza sits on the table along with a pile of napkins and the remote, and the projector is on and ready to go.

He extends a goblet to her, a little more than half full of the deep red liquid.

"Thanks," she murmurs with a smile. Their fingers brush as they exchange the vessel, Castle's hand lingering just a little too long before relinquishing his grip on the stem of the wine glass.

"To movie night," he offers, raising his glass.

"To movie night," Kate echoes, clinking her glass against his before taking a slow sip of the Merlot.

"Ready to watch?" Castle asks, breaking the pause in conversation just before it starts to feel awkward.

"Let's do it."

They settle onto the sofa side by side, elbows brushing as they devour more than half the pizza while _The Killer_ plays across the giant screen. Stomachs full, they eventually lean back into the cushions, nursing their glasses of wine for the remaining hour and fifteen minutes of the movie.

They're close enough to touch yet the tentative space between them remains even as they finish off their wine and the credits roll.

Castle gets up to change the movie, refill their wine, and make some microwave popcorn – "The high-quality stuff, Beckett. None of that light butter crap," he assures her – leaving Kate alone on the sofa with her racing thoughts and a second glass of wine.

She hasn't been this nervous in a long time.

But this isn't any ordinary evening, and Castle isn't any ordinary guy. She's not remotely ready to admit it aloud but deep down, Kate knows this is it. Her last first date, her last first kiss, her last first time. She's head-over-heels in love with this man and she can't imagine a future in which they're _not_ together. Doesn't even want to consider it.

He's it for her.

One and done.

Castle emerges from the kitchen with a giant bowl of popcorn and Kate pushes the thought away, sidelining that for now. They're not actually together yet; it's probably not the appropriate time to start talking about forever.

Oblivious to her feverish thoughts, he hands her the bowl with that adorable, lopsided smile she adores so much, and Kate can't help but grin in return. His enthusiasm is infectious and the genuine love radiating from his eyes has her heart fluttering excitedly.

One more movie, and then she can finally show him how much she loves him back.

* * *

They're part way through the movie when Kate slips off her flats, leans back against the side of the sofa; Castle is sitting close enough that her toes press against the solid warmth of his right thigh when she curls her legs up onto the cushions.

He switches the wine glass to his left hand, drops his right onto her ankle. It's casual, natural, automatic. She's not even sure he realizes he's doing it.

She does, though. She's hyperaware of his touch, and every stroke of his thumb over the rounded pyramid of her ankle bone sends sparks through her body.

If his hand on her ankle is this electric, she's not sure she'll survive the remainder of the night.

As the minutes pass, Castle gradually expands his touch, fingers curling around the top of her foot. He finds the edge of her arch with his thumb, increases the pressure as he runs the digit along it from heel to toe.

Kate sighs softly in encouragement.

It's all she can manage. Her voice seems to be stuck in her throat.

He repeats the motion a few times and Kate feels a knot in her arch begin to untangle. She loves wearing four-inch heels but they aren't necessarily good for her feet.

His hand slides back up, wrapping around her ankle and tugging gently. Kate uncurls her legs, turns so she's leaning back against the side of the couch, perpendicular to him.

Castle abandons his half-empty wine glass on the table, sits back as Kate extends her legs so her feet rest in his lap. He hasn't taken his eyes off the screen, remains focused on the movie even as he redoubles his efforts, and she's secretly thankful for that. The tension between them is palpable, and if he looks at her right now she'll probably just start tearing his clothes off. Or her own.

His thumbs slip beneath the hem of her pant leg, pressing into the sides of her calf muscle. Kate groans, drops her head back against the top of the sofa and closes her eyes. She lost track of the movie somewhere around the time his hand first made contact with her ankle, doesn't have any idea what's going on now. Doesn't care, either. Not when Castle's strong fingers are loosening the knots in her calves.

She's long since assumed that he has talented and dexterous hands. She's witnessed it on various occasions – when he writes on the murder board at the precinct, or when he snags a legal pad and a pen from her desk because the words are flowing. There was the time he watched the video from the ATM camera and mimicked the victim's hand movements with his own to recreate his message.

But none of that compares to the feeling of his hands working over her skin with the same deftness and care that he pours into his writing.

Castle softens his touch as he moves around her ankle bones, increasing the pressure slightly as his thumbs travel across the top of her foot, spreading like butterfly wings then traveling back and forth in gentle caresses. He spends the next few minutes working on the balls of her feet, whorls of his thumbs maintaining consistent pressure on her skin. It feels heavenly.

Eventually he softens the pressure of his touch, slips back to gentle strokes before his hands simply come to rest on the tops of her feet. Kate feels him lifting gently then, peels her eyes open – she didn't even realize they were still closed – to find him rising from the sofa, carefully placing her feet back onto the cushions.

Darkness has fallen with the setting sun, and the predicted storm clouds have rolled in. Rain is falling in a slow but steady tattoo against the window panes, a rhythmic backdrop during the softer sections of the movie but mostly inaudible. Castle crosses to the dining room, tugs on the window he cracked open earlier and pulls it shut.

Kate sets aside the half-empty popcorn bowl they've long since abandoned, smiles up at Castle as he approaches. It's the first time they've made eye contact since his initial absent-minded touch and even in the dim light she can see the love and desire and anticipation shimmering in the dark of his eyes.

She's certain the same heady blend of emotions are reflecting back in hers.

Kate bends her knees, tugs her heels into her butt to allow him to reclaim his seat. He settles in closer this time, near enough that when she extends her legs again her bent knees form a bridge over his lap, the backs of her thighs pressed against the side of his. His left hand falls to her shins, his right to her thigh, and even through the fabric of her jeans his touch makes her muscles jump and flutter.

She curls her fingers, finds herself suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. He's close enough to touch, so before she can talk herself out of it she extends her hand, rests it just above his right knee. He tenses briefly before relaxing under the light pressure of her palm.

They're both still pretending to watch the movie as Castle's hand begins to caress her thigh, his palm traveling from knee up the outside of her leg and back down again. Kate keeps her eyes carefully trained on the screen though her focus is solely on the soft pressure of his fingertips and the hard feel of his thigh beneath her hand.

His rhythm is soothing, and she finds her head lolling back and her eyes falling closed, jerking open only when he unexpectedly switches to her other thigh. He keeps the same gentle rhythm, but his fingertips brush along the inside seam of her pants now, traveling further with each pass; testing the waters or teasing her, or maybe a little bit of both.

She's seconds away from rising to her knees and straddling him when he abruptly detours, traveling around the outside of her hip, and she has to bite back a whimper.

He settles his hand on her lower back instead, fingers spreading wide and gently urging her closer. Kate twists slightly until she can rest her head on his shoulder; she nestles into the curve of his neck, nose against his skin, and he shudders. Her left arm is stuck awkwardly between them but she lifts her right, spreads her palm over the center of his chest. It's fluttering beneath her hand, his racing pulse keeping time with her own wildly palpitating heart.

Kate closes her eyes, breathes him in. She's been this close once before, but on that occasion they were trapped in a freezer, huddling for warmth and facing certain death. Tonight there's no freezer, no bombs. It's just them, illuminated by the glow of _Hard Boiled_ , basking in the knowledge that they can do this now – that this is the first of what will hopefully become many evenings cuddled on his couch or hers.

And despite the anticipation thrumming through her veins, she finds herself relaxing into his embrace. She wants him with every fiber of her being, but she wants this, too – the quiet intimacy, the slow build up, the organic transition from partners in crime-solving to partners in every sense of the word.

It goes against every instinct for her to relinquish control, to allow him to set the pace. But Castle has loved her from afar for so long, always waiting, always moving at her pace; tonight she's letting him take the reins, letting him love her the way she knows he's always wanted to.

Kate has lost track of how much time has passed when his fingers slip beneath the edge of her blouse, dusting against the bare skin of her back. His touch trails up the line of her spine and pinpricks of sensation spread from each fingertip, rippling through her and leaving her entire back tingling.

Her heart is hammering a chaotic rhythm in her chest and a flock of butterflies beat their wings in a haphazard pattern in her stomach; she's certain both are loud enough for Castle to hear. Surely he can feel the trembling of her muscles. Her entire body is practically vibrating with arousal and anticipation.

Castle travels the path again, up and down over the ridges of her vertebrae and Kate's back arches of its own volition.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and he's close, so close. His gaze is instantly drawn to hers, eyes lustrous and overflowing with desire. If she didn't know him so well, she wouldn't be able to make out the flecks of uncertainty floating amongst the shimmering darkness. They've been dancing around this for so many months, waiting, overwhelmed with longing – maybe he needs the assurance that this is finally happening.

So Kate temporarily takes the reins, tugging her left arm from where it's awkwardly wedged between them and tenderly cupping his jaw as she presses her lips to his. She both hears and feels his sharp intake of breath as their lips meet and a spark ignites, fuel to the fire that's been burning beneath the surface for so long.

They separate, but just barely, and Castle releases a long, shaky breath. Kate swipes her thumb across the ridge of his cheekbone, soft encouragement, and he captures her lips a second time.

He tightens his grip on her as their lips pull apart, increasing the pressure on her lower back, urging her closer. It's awkward and graceless but Kate manages to reposition herself with one knee on either side of his legs, straddling him and resting her butt in his lap. He catches her around the waist and she loops her arms around his neck, tugging him in for another kiss. She twines the fingers of one hand into his hair – she's always wanted to do that – cradling his head, and Castle smiles into the kiss.

It briefly crosses her mind that neither of them has spoken in more than an hour, but they've never been good at talking anyway, and they certainly don't need words for this.

Castle wastes no time in slipping his hands beneath her blouse again, palms spreading like wings across her back in time with the stroke of his tongue. Kate opens to him immediately, granting him entrance and losing herself in the kiss.

His hands are in constant motion, traveling up and down, around to her sides, his touch somehow simultaneously erecting goosebumps on her skin and leaving trails of fire in its wake.

But when he encounters the rough line of damaged skin on her left side, everything grinds to a halt.

Kate has come to terms with her scars in the last year, has accepted them as a part of her story that will be forever written on her skin. But aside from her doctors, no one else has seen the visible reminders of that day.

Somehow it seems appropriate that Castle will be the first.

She reaches for the buttons of her blouse, undoes the fourth one – she _may_ have opened one more than she normally would on her way to the loft tonight – to expose the scar nestled between her breasts.

Castle's eyes remain fixed on her face even as this new patch of skin is revealed; whether he's unsure or afraid Kate doesn't know, so she offers encouragement.

"It's okay," she murmurs softly. "You can look."

He searches her eyes for a long moment before finally dropping his gaze to the puckered skin. He lifts one hand, presses three fingers against what remains of the hole the bullet pierced through her body. It's still pinker and rougher than the rest of her skin and somewhat impervious to sensation, but she can feel the soft touch of his fingertips.

Kate releases the remaining buttons of her blouse, allows the garment to fall open. Castle's other hand still rests idly on her side and she captures it, twines her fingers with his and guides them along her incision scar once before leaving him to discover the skin on his own. He traces the line, up and down, runs a finger along the edge of the raised skin before sweeping his thumb back and forth across the scar.

"I di…" he clears his throat, tries again. "I didn't realize you had one here."

"Yeah," she hums.

"Are there any others?"

Kate shakes her head, realizes his eyes are still fixed on her chest. "No."

"Do they hurt?" he asks, lifting his gaze to hers and returning his attention to the scar between her breasts, dusting his fingertips across it once more.

She covers the hand on her chest with his own, spreading his palm over the steady rhythm of her healed heart. "Not anymore."

They fall silent for a long moment, Castle breaking the stillness when he tilts forward to rest his forehead against her chest. His hands find purchase on the bare skin of her waist and Kate raises hers to cradle the back of his skull, tenderly holding him in place as he breathes her in. She's not sure if he's gathering his thoughts or coming to terms with her scars or with what happened that day, and she doesn't ask. He's been incredibly patient and understanding for the better part of the last year; the least she can do is wait for him now.

Eventually he leans in, presses his lips to the scar between her breasts, breathing a soft 'thank you' against her skin.

She's unsure if he's thanking her or the doctors that saved her or some higher power – she's not even sure he meant to verbalize the sentiment – and she means to inquire but the words are stuck in her throat because he's replaced his lips with the whorl of his thumb and the rest of his hand is now cupping the underside of her left breast. Even through the fabric of her bra, the touch is dizzying.

At long last, Castle lifts his eyes to hers, liquid ebony shimmering in the darkness. He cradles her jaw with his other hand, fingers tangling in her hair.

"You're beautiful, Kate," he murmurs.

"Castle," she whispers in reply, utterly at a loss for words. She always knew they'd be amazing together, but she never could've fathomed it would feel like _this_.

So she kisses him instead, pours every ounce of her frazzled emotions into the gesture.

His hand winds further into her hair, adjusting the angle of her jaw to deepen the kiss. Kate arches into him and it has the desired effect, nudging his hand to fully cup her. He sweeps the pad of his thumb across the upper curve of her breast before sneaking it beneath the edge of her bra.

She moans into his mouth.

Castle swipes again; Kate nips at his lower lip in protest and she's just reaching for the hem of his t-shirt when the whole room flashes a bright, phosphorescent white, and then goes dark.

They freeze, lips parted, but the loft remains pitch black, and as the thunder rolls away an eerie silence falls.

"I think my phone's on the coffee table," Castle says with a sigh after a long moment of darkness.

Kate climbs off of him and he fumbles for the device, swiping to activate the flashlight app. A bright white beam illuminates the living room.

Castle stands, extends a hand to Kate. "Come on. I know I have a lantern somewhere."

She takes his hand, stands and follows him through to his office. Their hands disentangle as they cross the threshold and Castle scans the shelves before searching the drawers of his desk while Kate wanders to the window to gaze out over the dim outline of the Manhattan skyline.

The buildings across the street have been plunged into darkness as well, and on the streets below, cabs and pedestrians attempt to navigate the lack of stoplights. A few of the street level establishments seem to be running on backup power, but the normal buzz of Manhattan at night has all but vanished.

"I've never seen it so dark." Castle echoes her thoughts as he steps up behind her, lantern clutched triumphantly in his fist. He switches off the light and sets it aside, eyes adjusting to the night.

Kate leans into him, back against his chest; he welcomes her into the cove of his body and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She clings to his forearms with both hands, relaxes against him, and he rests his cheek against her temple. She was right; they fit together perfectly when she's not wearing heels, and they look damn good together too if their reflection in the window is any indication.

Castle opens his mouth, closes it without speaking, opens it again, and she can see his hesitation in the glass.

"What?" She prompts.

He presses his lips together, shakes his head against her. "Nothing. It's stupid."

It's not stupid, though. Kate is sure of that. In fact, she's almost certain she knows what he wants to say, knows the question that's on his mind. And maybe she can provide him the answer he's seeking.

She gently unwinds his arms from around her, turns and meets his eyes. "I'll be right back."

Her eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough that she manages to navigate the loft without tripping or banging her shins on any furniture. She retrieves her purse from the foyer, extracts the novel she brought with her as she makes her way back to the office.

He's gazing at her with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation as she reappears in the doorway. Kate sets her purse on an armchair and cradles the book to her chest with both hands, feeling suddenly exposed with the flaps of her blouse still hanging open. She comes to a stop before him, finds herself battling shaky legs and sweaty palms.

She's never shared this with anyone before; it's one of her most private secrets.

"You figured out a long time ago that I've read your books," she begins, not quite meeting his eyes. "All of them," she adds. "More than once." Kate glances up at him, finds him smiling ever so slightly. Vindication, she thinks. She blinks, dips her eyes to his chin. "But my mom actually read them first."

"She did?" he asks in awe.

"She owned every single one," Kate answers, shakes her head with a broken laugh. "My dad and I used to make fun of her for loving them so much." She smiles up at Castle and he smiles back, eyes meeting for a moment before she sobers and the smile falls from his face as well.

Kate loosens her grip to reveal the novel clutched to her chest, eyes fixed on the familiar cover. "We were going through her belongings and I found this one on her nightstand with a bookmark in it. She never got to read the ending, so I thought…" she trails off in reminiscence. "I finished it for her."

She lifts her gaze again, finds him regarding her with quiet admiration. Her lips curve into a tentative smile. "It's so funny, Castle, because I didn't expect to enjoy it so much. I was never really a fan of mystery novels." She pauses, takes a deep breath. "I took her whole collection home with me and read them one by one. It's silly but… it made me feel closer to her."

"No," Castle breathes, shaking his head adamantly. "Not silly at all."

Kate extends her copy of _At Dusk We Die,_ nods in encouragement when he hesitates.

"This was hers?" he asks, taking it from her with reverent hands.

She nods. "Open it."

He furrows his brow in curiosity but flips open the cover, promptly finds his own signature staring back at him from the title page.

Castle's eyes widen in surprise, flitting back and forth between Kate and the page, and after a long moment of searching for words – _any_ words – he can only manage to state the obvious. "I signed this."

"September 2002," she recollects with a smile. "I snuck out of class at the Academy to stand in line."

"I never knew," he murmurs, gently closing the book and lifting his eyes to hers. There are tears pooling in the blue depths that he blinks back but can't quite hide.

"I know I asked you to wait for me," Kate whispers, taking a tentative step forward and resting her hands on his waist. "And we've had some misunderstandings, but I don't want there to be any more doubts. You mean the world to me, Castle. You always have."

He's hugging her before she can even react, arms tight around her shoulders and the novel pressing into her upper back. He buries his face in her neck and she can feel a few of his tears spring free and spread across her skin but she doesn't comment, just loops her arms around him and breathes him in.

Castle finally lifts his head, sets the book aside on his desk so he can cup her jaw with both hands. He kisses her deeply and she can tell her confession had the desired effect; he's no longer holding back, the damn broken and the repressed emotions flooding out. She can feel it in the possessive yet tender touch of his hands, in every swipe of his tongue and the insistent press of his lips.

He's kissing her like he loves her more than anything.

His hands fall from her jaw, tracing the ridges of her shoulder, the long line of her arms until he catches her hands in his own. She insinuates her fingers into the gaps between his and he tightens his grip, tugs her backwards, never breaking the seal of their lips.

"Bed," he urges against her mouth.

"Yes," she breathes in relief, following him through the office, phones and lanterns abandoned as they navigate through the darkness.

They finally pause for breath as they cross the threshold, Kate stepping into his bedroom for the first time. But there's no hesitation, no uncertainty anymore, on her part or on his. Just happiness and lust and love.

"Let me find a couple candles," Castle says roughly, the words tangling around the emotion still threatening to overwhelm him. No way are they doing this in the dark. If Kate Beckett is going to fall apart in his bed, he damn well wants to witness every second of it.

He fishes around for the lighter, silently thankful that for the last six months he's been too lazy to return it to its spot in the kitchen. Three candles sit across the top of his dresser and they flicker to life one by one, spreading a soft golden hue and casting shadows that dance along the walls.

Castle leaves one on the dresser, places one on each nightstand before returning to Kate like a moth drawn to flame. She's gazing at him adoringly, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, and he steals it from her, soothes it with his tongue while his hands reach for the open flaps of her blouse, nudging it off of her shoulders.

She drops her arms to allow the garment to flutter to the floor, reaches for the hem of his shirt. He breaks their kiss just long enough for the fabric to slide over his head and then he's kissing her again, unwilling to be separated from her for even a moment.

They haven't even made it to bed yet and already Castle knows he's never letting her go.

Kate Beckett is the only woman he ever wants in his arms, in his bed, in his heart.

* * *

They collapse in a sweaty heap after round one, Castle's head buried in her neck and Kate cradling him tenderly, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along his back. The lightning and thunder seem to have stopped, the candles their only source of illumination. The rain and wind remain, pounding against the window panes, but it's peaceful despite the frantic cadence of the raindrops.

They lay tangled up in each other, sweat drying on their skin, hearts slowing, lungs calming, drifting on the edge of consciousness for a long while before desire begins to stir, coaxing them into wakefulness once more.

* * *

They finally manage to tear themselves out of bed after round two, boneless and sated, exhausted but radiant. Kate is absolutely glowing, and Castle feels pretty ecstatic himself. After building this up in his mind for so long, a small part of him had been nervous that it wouldn't live up to his expectations, but he realizes now how ridiculous his concern had been.

Everything about this evening has exceeded his wildest dreams.

He tosses Kate a towel and washcloth, offers her a toothbrush, at which point she shyly confesses to having brought her own.

"Katherine Beckett," he scolds in mock surprise, but his eyes are twinkling and he's grinning gleefully because she showed up tonight with a toothbrush and a novel and nothing remaining of the wall that's kept them apart for so long.

They wash up side by side in his bathroom, completely naked and illuminated by candlelight, before collapsing back into bed. Kate's never been much of a snuggler, not usually that keen on sharing a bed at all, but everything is different with Castle. She smiles as he curls up at her back, their bodies perfectly slotting into place. He wraps an arm around her and she clutches his hand to her chest even as she already feels herself drifting into slumber.

She can't be sure, but she's fairly certain she doesn't imagine the ' _I love you so much, Kate'_ he breathes into her hair after he thinks she's fallen asleep.

* * *

They're pulled into wakefulness in the early hours of the morning, grey light streaming through the windows and voices coming from the living room.

Wait. Voices?

Kate lifts her head, automatically reaching for her gun.

"Power must've come back," Castle mumbles groggily; she drops her arm while he reluctantly pushes back the covers and rolls out of bed to turn off the movie and a lamp.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Kate is gazing at him sleepily with a lazy smile on her face. She watches him approach, eyes never straying as he lowers himself into the bed.

"Hey," he whispers, still so in awe. He just spent the night with Kate Beckett and she's gazing up at him as though she's never been happier.

"Hi," she breathes.

"It's early still," Castle states somewhat inanely as he settles back into the pillows and tugs the comforter up to his shoulders. "We should sleep."

"Or…" she begins teasingly, blinking up at him through dark lashes.

"Or," he echoes in encouragement.

She shrugs against the pillow. "We could have a little interlude of sorts before we go back to sleep."

Castle props his head on his hand, grins down at her. "Do tell."

Kate mimics his position and the covers slide down to expose her naked chest. His eyes automatically follow the receding sheet, rising only when she leans in, lips ghosting his cheek.

"How about I show you instead?"

* * *

 **Prompt #2 (by Ali): Kate gifts Castle her signed book he never knew about during the John Woo date night**

* * *

 _Thoughts? Prompts? Find me on twitter (dmarx711) and tumblr (dmarx)_


	6. Chapter 6

_This isn't at all what I initially envisioned when I sat down to write this prompt. But the words just kind of ran away from me and I followed them and this is where we ended up._

* * *

 **#6:** **What if… Kate called Castle in the middle of summer after being shot and after a long silence said "I lied before. I remember everything."**

 **Prompt by Anastasia**

* * *

She's laying on the couch with a book in her hands when the first one cracks through the air, and before her brain has even comprehended the possible source of the sound, Kate is on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table she's somehow managed to upend, her arms pulled in and the scarred muscle of her heart pounding a frantic cadence within the wall of her chest.

They're back. That's the only possible explanation. They've come back to finish the job. And she's alone, in a cabin in the woods, without her gun.

She doesn't stand a chance.

Another shot pops through the silence and she cowers even further, ducking her head and pressing her hands to the scar between her breasts that's throbbing in time with her panicked heartbeat.

Another crackle, prolonged sizzling.

How many gunmen did they send?

The sounds are growing closer, the pops less muted. One particularly loud shot echoes like a sonic boom and it has Kate scrambling to her feet, slamming her shin on the corner of the end table as she sprints for her bedroom. She can't fight and she's not strong enough to flee, but if she's lucky, maybe she can hide.

Another string of cracks and fizzles has her stumbling in the doorway of her bedroom, hands landing on the night stand with a loud thump. The lamp that sits atop the dark wooden surface wobbles violently; she reaches for it but a stab of pain erupts from her left side, radiating in waves from the epicenter of her scar and drawing a cry from her lips. The lamp crashes to the ground, shattering at her feet.

Shit.

There's no way they didn't hear that.

She grabs her phone and races for the closet, wedges herself in amongst spare blankets and pillows and eases the bi-fold doors shut, trapping herself in the darkness. The gunshots are quieter in here, at least initially, but they still seem to be coming closer. She can hear them even over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears and she presses a fist to her lips, wills herself to stay silent even as another tremor of fear and panic wracks her frame and sends pain lancing through her torso.

Oh, God.

They're coming for her. They're coming to kill her and she's not even going to have a chance to say goodbye to her father or her friends or… or Castle.

 _Castle._

He poured his heart out just a few weeks ago, told her he loves her, and what did she do in return? She lied and then ran away to lick her wounds in private, resolutely ignoring the fact that she loves him too.

She loves him and she heard his confession and now they're coming to kill her and he'll never know.

"Castle," she whispers, sobs, throat dry and hoarse from disuse.

She's powering on her phone and selecting his name from her contacts list before she can stop herself because he just… he has to know.

He answers on the second ring, uttering her surname in what sounds like shock and surprise. "Beckett?"

"Castle," she breathes, the sound little more than a whisper. She hasn't spoken in days, isn't even sure her voice works anymore, but that's fine because she needs to be quiet anyway. Speaking at all is probably the stupidest thing she could be doing right now, but she can't leave things like they are. Not if she's never going to see him again.

"How are you?" he asks, somewhat warily, and she can't even begin to decipher the tangle of emotions in his voice.

"Castle, they're coming," she says instead, diving right in, no time for small talk. "They found me, I don't know how, but they have guns and they're coming closer."

"Beckett…" he interrupts, but she barrels on. She has to get this out before it's too late.

"I remember," she whispers, the syllables torn up by the terrified tremors of her body as another batch of gunfire ricochets through the night.

Silence falls on the other end of the line.

"I heard what you said in the cemetery," she confesses, tears streaming down her cheeks, emotion clogging her parched throat. "And I didn't want to do this over the phone but I just… I love you, too. I needed you to know."

"Kate…"

"They're coming," she gasps, flinching as another set of pops echo through the air. "I have to go."

She hears him call her name through the speaker but she's already ending the call, hugging the phone to her chest and dropping her head to her knees, allowing the tears to fall. They're soaking the thin fabric of her leggings, easily making it through to her skin, but she doesn't stop them.

Can't.

She's terrified, she's alone, she's broken, and she just ripped her own heart out over the phone, leaving her chest hollow and empty.

She never meant for them to end like this.

* * *

He calls Jim.

It's well after nine p.m. on a Wednesday, but he doesn't know what else to do. He needs to help her, comfort her, but he doesn't know where she is.

She's not at her apartment. Of that he's almost certain. He hasn't been sleeping well since that day, his slumber restless and plagued by nightmares. He's lost count of the number of times he's found himself wandering the city streets instead, feet always subconsciously taking him to her building; but each time, no matter the hour, the windows are dark.

Jim answers, thank God, and Castle finds himself stumbling over the words in an attempt to convey how desperately he needs to see Kate without completely freaking the man out.

But her father sees right through him – of course he does – and within minutes Castle finds himself en route to the Beckett family cabin up in the Catskills.

* * *

For a long moment silence falls, eerie and unsettling after the thunderous cacophony of the last few… minutes? Hours?

She's lost all concept of time.

The silence is shattered a minute later by another round of crackling and fizzing, but this one seems more distant. Did they turn back?

Maybe they couldn't find her.

But no. Something about this isn't right.

Around the edges of panic, Kate feels a rational thought poke its head in: these sounds – another one echoes through the darkness in time with the realization – aren't from guns. At least, not any guns she's ever heard. They sound more like microwave popcorn or… or fireworks?

Kate nudges open the closet door enough to peek out the window, sees flecks of gold illuminate the sky just before the next waves of sound reach her.

Fireworks.

Not gunmen.

Not this time, anyway.

There's a temporary lull and Kate breathes a sigh of relief, uncurls her arms and forces herself off the floor. She's still breathing faster than normal, heart racing, her chest expanding and contracting painfully beneath the too-tight pull of her scars.

She'd chosen her dad's cabin in large part because of the silence; the night usually brings only the chirping of crickets, the buzzing of cicadas, and the chorus of frogs in the pond out back. It's soothing, relaxing, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. There aren't many people out here, just a few families with cabins encircling the pond, but she hasn't encountered anyone else this summer.

Someone is apparently here, though, and even though she's identified the source of the sound, she still finds herself flinching each time a firework explodes in the sky.

Great. She's already so far from being recovered, from being okay again, and now she has to add this to her list.

She's completely lost track of how long she's been here; there isn't a calendar in the cabin and her phone has been powered down pretty must since she arrived but… is it the Fourth of July? Has it really been almost two months since she was shot?

The pain in her chest has dulled and her stamina is slowly returning, so she knows some time has passed. But nearly two months?

That means she's back to work in just over a month.

She's not sure she's ready.

At this rate, she's not sure she'll ever be ready. Not if fireworks have her clamoring to the ground in terror.

* * *

He's halfway to the Catskills before his brain even registers the fact that she lied to him.

She's never been one to share her feelings; always closed off, opting to deal with things in private. So he can't entirely say he's surprised that she chose this course of action.

It doesn't stop him from being hurt.

But there's no time to dwell on that right now. Not when she just called him late at night to make what she clearly believed was a dying confession of love.

She hasn't been shot again. Of that, Castle is fairly certain. He could hear the sound of fireworks in the background of her call and he's done enough book research to understand the varying manifestations of PTSD. She's alone in the woods in the darkness; he has no trouble believing that fireworks could trigger a panic attack in her current situation.

It's a matter of minutes before his GPS instructs him to pull off the highway onto a long, winding gravel drive. Less than two hours have passed since he left the loft; he's not entirely sure how fast he was driving but he's sure it was well above the speed limit.

Castle slows the car to a stop at the end of the driveway, cutting the engine but leaving the headlights on; they'll provide at least a couple minutes of illumination before shutting off, time enough to alert her to his presence and allow him to navigate into the cabin.

The spare key is exactly where Jim said it would be, taped to the inside of the lid of the birdfeeder that hangs above the porch. Castle hastily twists the cover back into place and pulls open the screen door, inserting the key into the lock. The door gives way easily, opening into darkness and utter silence.

Castle fumbles for a light switch, can't find one, switches on the flashlight app from his phone instead. He can see a lamp next to the sofa, carefully picks his way across the living room and switches it on.

Under the soft, golden illumination of the bulb his eyes fall upon a spilled glass of water, an abandoned book, an upended coffee table. It's obvious she was here in this room when the fireworks began.

He glances around the room, barely registering the quaintness of the cabin, the wooden walls and cozy furniture, the fireplace and the family photographs lining the mantle. All that stands out in his mind is that she's not here.

"Beckett?" he calls softly.

He does a quick sweep of the kitchen, leaving all the lights on and calling her name again as he heads for the back of the cabin, hoping to alert her to his presence. She didn't invite him here, probably doesn't want him here, and the last thing he wants is to startle her and send her back into a state of fear. The fireworks seem to have abated but he knows it's not that simple, knows she's likely still on edge.

He opens the door to the hall closet, finding only sheets and towels. She's not in the bathroom either, but the splatters of water on the counter suggest she's been there recently.

"Kate?" He taps softly on the door to what he assumes is a bedroom, receives no answer.

But the room is empty, leaving only one door he hasn't opened. He knocks lightly, calls her name once again, but is greeted only by silence.

"Kate?" he questions. "I'm coming in."

He turns the knob, cracks the door open, and it's immediately obvious she was here. Probably still is. The covers on the bed are turned down and a lamp is shattered across the floor and, shit. He shouldn't have shown up unannounced like this but he's damn glad he did, because the mere thought of her alone and panicked in the darkness has his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

Without the lamp the room is dark so he raises his phone, sweeping the beam of the flashlight around the room. She's nowhere to be seen but the closet door is slightly ajar so he carefully picks his way across the pieces of broken glass until he's standing in front of the knob.

Castle squats down and slowly folds the door open, gently calling her name so as not to startle her. The phone is in his other hand, aimed off to the side, enough to illuminate the scene without blinding her with light.

He sees her eyes first, wide and wild in the darkness, follows the outline of her body, and the sight before him breaks what remains of his heart. She's curled in the back corner, surrounded by a wall of pillows and blankets, hands clutched to her chest and her entire body trembling in fear.

"Kate," he murmurs, fighting back every urge to reach for her, to draw her into his arms and hold her close and make it all go away. He just… he'd take a hundred bullets if it meant she never had to suffer through this ever again.

"No," she whispers in a panic. "You can't be here, Castle, they'll kill you too."

"Kate, no," he says calmly, curling his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave marks. "No one's going to die. There's no one else here. Just me."

"There was a car," she begins, eyes still wide and frantic. "I heard it, I saw the lights, I…"

"Shhh, no, Kate," he interrupts, silently cursing himself for scaring her, for piling onto the pain and fear she's already faced tonight. "That was me. It's just me. You're safe. I promise. You're safe."

He keeps speaking, a quiet train of assurances that there's no one else here, that she's okay, that she's safe, only stopping when he sees the fear begin to drain from her eyes.

Tentatively, Castle extends both hands, resting them on the pile of blankets that still forms a barrier between them. She's hesitant at first, eying him warily, but at long last she drops her phone into her lap and reaches out, settling her hands in his palms. Castle cups them gently, thumbs sweeping tenderly over her skin. Kate drops her gaze, eyes fixed on their joined hands while his remain glued to her, anxiously awaiting her reaction.

It comes barely a minute later in the form of a new wave of fear washing over her.

"Why are you here?" she asks abruptly, scared eyes meeting his.

"You called me," he reminds her gently.

She retracts her hands from his, folds them back into her lap. "I didn't ask you to come."

"No," he concedes because, well, she didn't.

"You shouldn't have."

Castle sits back on his haunches, trying – and failing – to ignore the pain her words ignite, trying to overlook the similarities between that day in the hospital and her current rejection. He knows she's hurting, knows she's struggling but, damn it, does she always have to push him away so harshly?

She's absolutely the most frustrating, infuriating woman he's ever met but he _loves her_ and just once he'd like to help her shoulder the burden.

But she's staring at him in desperation and, yeah. He should probably go.

"I'll call your dad," he finally concedes on a sigh, fumbling for his phone in the semi-darkness. If she doesn't want him here, fine, but there's no way he's leaving her here alone.

"No," Kate practically shouts, eyes widening with a different kind of fear. "No, don't. He… I don't want him to worry."

"He's your father, he's already worried."

"No." She's shaking her head frantically, eyes desperate. "Don't, please. He… doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?"

"About…" she hesitates, gestures to herself, "this. And I don't want him to." Her voice trails off and Castle barely catches her last few words. "I didn't want anyone to."

* * *

He's crouching outside the closet, gazing at her like she just broke his heart and, oh, God. She can't do this. Not here and certainly not right now.

She's not entirely sure how he can keep doing this either. How could he possibly still love her now that he's seen how broken she is?

This is precisely why she's cooped up in her father's cabin, why she's been ignoring her phone and her emails since the moment she arrived. She just… can't. She can barely walk some days, can scarcely breathe most nights.

There's no way in hell she can be the woman he fell in love with, and the moment he realizes that is the moment her heart will shatter forever, because she loves him too. And – oh, God – she _told_ him that, didn't she? She called him in desperation and blurted the words into the phone and now he's here and he's looking at her and he _knows._ He knows how she feels.

She's only just admitted it to herself within the last month; she certainly isn't ready to say it to him.

Except… she did.

She panicked and she scared him so much that he drove all the way out to the Catskills – she suddenly finds herself wondering how he even knew where to find her – in the middle of the night to find her hiding in a closet riding out the tail end of yet another panic attack.

He's watching her still but it's with a different kind of sadness in his eyes now, less heartbreak and more… sympathy?

She doesn't want his sympathy.

She just wants him gone before he realizes the truth.

* * *

"How long has this been going on?" Castle finally asks, the words out before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself not to push any harder than he already has.

She looks away, folds her arms across her chest.

"Kate?"

"Please just go," she whispers harshly.

"No," he states firmly. If he's not allowed to call her dad, then he's staying. She may be stubborn as hell, but he can be stubborn, too.

"Castle." He thinks it's supposed to be a reprimand but instead she just sounds exhausted, resigned.

"I'm not leaving you alone right now."

"I'm fine."

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, to growl in frustration, to point out how obviously not fine she is.

"Right, of course," he says instead, attempting to make the words sound as neutral as possible. "Why don't we both get some sleep? I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

She regards him cagily as he rises, pockets his phone and steps back. Broken glass crunches beneath the soles of his shoes and they both flinch. But she doesn't look frightened by the sound this time. She looks… ashamed?

"Is there a broom?" he asks hesitantly, tucking his observations away for later contemplation.

"In the kitchen," she answers, still unmoving in the closet.

Castle backs out of the room, strides to the kitchen and finds a broom and dustpan in a closet near the back door. When he returns she's seated on the edge of the bed, one ankle draped over her opposite thigh, fingers picking at the sole of her foot.

"Kate?"

She jerks in surprise; he wasn't exactly walking silently, there's no way she didn't hear him coming.

He indicates the floor, the scattered shards. "Did you step in this?"

She shrugs. "It's just a small piece, it's not a big deal."

"Not a…" he begins in exasperation. "You have _glass_ in your foot."

"I'm…"

"No, you're not," he finally snaps. "You're not fine, Kate. You wouldn't have called me tonight if you were fine. You're scared and you're hurting and you have broken glass in your foot, and will you stop trying to be a warrior woman for five minutes and just _let me help you_?"

She's obviously startled by his outburst and okay, yes, he can admit that raising his voice definitely wasn't the right thing to do given the circumstances, but he doesn't know how else to get through to her.

At long last, Kate's shoulders slump, her head dropping to her chest as her entire body seems to deflate. "Fine," she mutters. "Do… whatever."

She doesn't move, doesn't say more, so after a long, tense moment Castle breaks the silence with a swish of the broom. He carefully sweeps up every shard, picks up what remains of the lamp and deposits it next to the kitchen garbage can that's now full of broken glass. He makes a mental note to empty it in the morning.

Castle returns to the bedroom with the lamp from the living room in tow, sets it on the nightstand and plugs it in, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Kate ducks her head, hiding behind her hair, but otherwise doesn't move. He's never seen her so complacent. This is… not good.

He leaves once again, returns this time with a first aid kit from underneath the bathroom sink. It's incomplete and the packet of Neosporin is far past expired, but it will have to do. He drops to his knees in front of her, extracts the tweezers.

"May I?" he asks when she still doesn't look at him, doesn't speak.

Kate nods, and though her chin is down and her eyes are screwed shut, he can see remnants of tears in the streaks painting her cheeks and the clumps of her eyelashes.

He cradles her foot gently in one hand but he can't really see, not with just the light of one lamp that's all the way across the room. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, switches on the flashlight again and holds it out for her.

"Can you just… shine this at your foot?"

She takes it obligingly, aims the beam of light as he asked, and in the bright illumination Castle can see not one but four broken shards poking through her skin.

Working carefully, he frees them one by one; she winces each time he extracts one, and everything about tonight is downright breaking his heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispers when he's finished, setting the tweezers aside. Castle takes a chance, one hand rising to cup her cheek; she doesn't pull away. "I'm so sorry," he says again, leaning in to rest his forehead against her shoulder. "You're hurting and I made it worse and I just… I wish I could take it all away. I'd do anything."

She sniffles and he feels a tear drop land on the tip of his thumb, breaking over it like rain on the Continental Divide. He swipes his thumb gently along the ridge of her cheekbone, feels her lean into his touch in response.

"I'm sorry too," Kate finally whispers, one hand rising to fist in the front of his shirt. "I haven't handled this well. I haven't handled anything well this summer. Clearly," she adds with a self-deprecating noise that he thinks was meant to be a laugh.

"You're healing," he reminds her.

"Yeah, that's going well."

"Kate." He lifts his head, leans back so he can see her but she's still hiding behind her hair, eyes averted. "Look at me," he says softly, gentle pressure on her cheek to coax her eyes up. "Please."

It's a long moment before she raises her chin, blinks open her eyes. They're red and shimmering and her cheeks are stained with tears but as he sees her in the light for the first time in two months, Castle is certain he's never seen anything more beautiful.

She's alive.

"You almost died," he says in a whisper, fingers trailing across the ridge of her cheekbone as he drops his hand back to his side. And, yeah, neither of them really need the reminder, but he's trying to make a point here. "No one expects you to be chasing down a suspect and tackling him to the ground right now. It takes time to recover from something like this. And you know what?" he asks, rather rhetorically. "You are. Last time I saw you, you were laying in a hospital bed with an IV in your arm. And now you're here. You can walk, you can get through the day, you can…"

"Hide in the closet when someone sets off fireworks," she interrupts flatly.

"You got spooked," he says with a shrug. He's downplaying it, and he's pretty sure she knows that too, but she doesn't call him out. At least, not yet. "It's to be expected."

Kate huffs. "How can you be so flippant about this?"

"Because I know you," he answers easily. "You're resilient, Kate. You're unstoppable. I know it feels impossible right now, but you'll recover and you'll get back to where you were before."

She averts her eyes, turns to gaze unseeingly out the window. "What if I don't?"

Castle reaches out tentatively, cradles her hands in his own. "Then I'll be right here by your side until you do."

"I feel like it's getting worse," Kate confesses, so softly he barely hears her. He'll blame her honesty on the late hour or the fading adrenaline because ordinarily she'd never share something like this with him. "It's never been this bad before."

"There probably haven't ever been fireworks before," he points out gently.

"So, what, I have to spend every future Fourth of July hiding in my closet?" she snaps irritably, reclaiming her hands and retreating back into her shell.

"Hey, Kate, no," he calls softly, hoping to calm her anger before it intensifies. "It'll get better. It will. It may take time, but it will."

She huffs in frustration, bites down on her lower lip to hold back the next wave of tears. Castle simply waits her out, hands resting gently on her leg as she gathers herself.

"Will you wait?" she asks meekly after an extended silence.

"Wait?" he echoes.

"For me to be better," she clarifies timidly and, oh, wow. Shy Beckett is adorable. "I just… I can't be anything more than this right now."

Castle tilts her chin up with the soft pressure of two fingers, waits until her eyes meet his to speak. "I'll always wait for you, Kate."

* * *

He's regarding her so tenderly, happiness and hope and _so much love_ in his gaze, and she briefly wonders if she'll ever deserve him. But before she can dwell on the thought, Castle is dropping his arm, sitting back and busying himself with the first aid kit once again.

"Now, come on," he says softly. "Let's get your foot wrapped up and get some sleep. It's late."

She allows him to work without protest, watching in silence as he dabs Neosporin on the four small cuts in her sole, covering each with a Bandaid and then gently wrapping her foot in a layer of gauze. His brow furrows in concentration as he works, his touch gentle and precise. Kate is brought back to that night in the ambulance after he punched a gunman senseless; only she was tending to him, re-wrapping the gauze around his bruised and bloody fist and thanking him for saving her life.

 _Always,_ he'd said.

She believes him. She always has. But, more than anything, when he showed up tonight she'd feared this would be the end. That he'd realize she isn't worth it and he doesn't always want to be by her side.

The fear is still there, in amongst the swarm of other emotions that are splitting her chest open and rubbing her heart raw.

But – she thinks to herself as he rises, pressing his lips to her forehead and whispering _good night, Kate_ into her skin – Castle saw her tonight at her worst, and he's still here and it's clear that he still loves her. She's not anywhere close to being the person she needs to be before she can love him back but she thinks maybe just having him here is enough for them both.

He smiles gently as he leaves and, for the first time in weeks, Kate feels the corners of her own mouth lifting in reply.

It's definitely enough, she decides.

It's enough for now.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	7. Chapter 7

_This is definitely one of the more creative and unique prompts I've ever received. I even received plot points along with the prompt, which I'm not going to share for the sake of spoilers, but just know that I can't really take credit for the plot of this one._

* * *

 **#7: What if… Kate loses her mother's necklace on the beach in LA during the chase scene in 3x22?**

 **Prompt by Indrani**

* * *

Castle emerges from his room, towel in hand and droplets of water still clinging to his hair, to find Kate kneeling on the ground with her ass in the air and her head practically under the end table.

"Uh," he clears his throat, tries to sound a little less like a pubescent teen and a little more like an adult man who isn't so thrown off by his partner's hotness that he can't seem to speak without squeaking. "Beckett?" he asks with a cock of his head, pleased to hear his voice sounding closer to normal.

She doesn't look up, merely crawls forward and flips up the strip of fabric that hangs from the base of the sofa, shining her phone flashlight beneath the furniture.

"Beckett," he tries again, voice a little louder this time. She pauses in her frantic search for… whatever she's apparently misplaced, so Castle continues.

"Not that I'm not immensely enjoying the view but, uh… what's going on?" he teases, hoping the levity will tamp down his body's subconscious response to her.

But she's wearing leggings, and with her current positioning he can pretty clearly see that whatever underwear she has on must be pretty minimal, and her shirt is riding up to expose the skin of her lower back, and they're both fresh out of the shower, and he's really just completely powerless against his mind's traitorous thoughts.

"Beckett?" he questions, approaching tentatively when she still doesn't actually respond.

She finally sits back on her heels with a huff, allowing the fabric to fall back into place, and when she glances over her shoulder her eyes are filled with barely-controlled tears.

Oh.

He's apparently read the situation completely wrong.

"Kate?" he tries again, tentatively this time, tossing the towel onto the coffee table and kneeling down next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find it," she mutters, lower lip quivering with the effort of reining in her emotions.

Okay, well, obviously. But whatever she's lost, making light of it is clearly not the appropriate strategy.

"Can't find what?"

"My necklace," she replies softly, hand absent-mindedly rising to rest between her breasts where her mother's ring would usually be nestled. "I didn't notice it was gone until I got in the shower and I thought maybe I lost it here somewhere but it's not here and I think it must've fallen off when I jumped that railing on the beach, and I'll probably never get it back and…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, Kate," Castle interrupts calmly, extending an arm to rest a soothing hand on her knee. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? We'll find it."

"Castle."

"We will," he promises, even though he's not entirely sure how he'll be able to pull this one off. But he will, because she looks so utterly shattered and he knows how much the ring means to her. And after everything else she's been through this week, he'll do absolutely anything to help her. She's suffered more than her fair share of loss already.

Beckett doesn't look convinced, but at least her chin isn't trembling anymore.

"Okay, let's think this through," Castle says, mustering up his best problem-solving skills. "When was the last time you absolutely know you had it?"

"I put it back on after I got out of the pool," she recollects. "So I know I had it when we went to find Ganz."

"And then after we came back?"

"I went straight to the shower because I was covered in sand."

Castle sighs thoughtfully. "You're absolutely sure you put it back on this afternoon?"

She levels him with a glare.

He raises his hands in supplication and her expression softens slightly.

"Anywhere in this room you haven't looked yet?"

Kate shrugs. "I mean, probably. But after we wrapped up with Seeger I went straight to the shower, so I don't see how it could be anywhere else."

"Doesn't hurt to check," Castle says, infusing his voice with more optimism than he feels. They say 'fake it till you make it,' right? Maybe if he wishes hard enough, they'll somehow manage to find this precious heirloom.

* * *

It's not there. Not that he expected it to be, necessarily. They turn the whole place upside down, including both of their bedrooms, just in case it somehow got caught in something of his.

But it's nowhere to be found.

Darkness has fallen and it's nearly time to head to the airport; their red-eye back to New York departs in three and a half hours. They really should be going. But Castle knows she won't leave without her necklace, and there's no way he's leaving without her.

Kate is still in her bedroom, meticulously picking through her suitcase for any sign of the missing jewelry, so Castle takes a moment alone to brainstorm. Finding a necklace in a sandy beach seems about as promising as finding a needle in a haystack – and has anyone ever actually tried to do that? – so he needs something a little more certain if he's going to hold true to his promise to recover it.

* * *

He's just finishing up a call when Kate appears in the doorway to his room, looking like beautiful devastation, and he just wants to wrap her in his arms and make all the pain and loss of this week vanish into thin air.

"Any luck?" she asks, voice resigned. As though she knows it's pointless to even hope.

"Sorry," he replies with a shake of his head. He desperately wishes he could give her a better answer but he obviously can't.

Kate glances away, eyes staring unseeingly out the window on the opposite wall.

"But I have a plan," he offers moments later.

She whips her head back around. "What?"

"I have a plan," he echoes.

"Castle, if this is one of your crazy theories designed to ma…"

He holds up a hand to interrupt her reprimand. "It's not."

She regards him warily.

"Just hear me out," he pleads. "I switched our tickets to tomorrow morning's flight and rented us two metal detectors."

"You what?"

"Rented us two metal detectors," he repeats, and why is she looking at him like this is such a crazy idea?

"It's…" she consults her watch, "9:47 on a Friday evening, how did you rent metal detectors?"

Castle dismisses her concerns with a flap of his hand, already eagerly making his way across the suite. "I know a guy. Come on."

* * *

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door; Castle swings it open to reveal Maurice with a metal detector in either hand and the usual cheerful smile on his face.

"Mr. Castle, Miss. Beckett," the bellhop greets, extending the devices. "As requested."

Castle relieves him of the detectors, passes him a bill of unknown denomination; Kate doesn't even want to consider the amount of money Castle has spent on tips this week.

"Maurice, you are amazing," he croons.

"My pleasure sir," he nods. "Ma'am."

And with that, he's gone, leaving Castle standing in the doorway to their luxurious suite with a metal detector in each hand and an expectant smile on his face.

He extends one in her direction. "Shall we?"

This is ridiculous, and Kate is certain the chances of it working are slim to none. They're going on a wild goose chase in the middle of the night and she can only imagine what kind of questionable objects they're going to find on an extremely popular public beach.

But he looks so hopeful, excitement twinkling in his eyes, and she finds herself giving in somewhat reluctantly and taking the proffered equipment from him in equal parts determination and exasperation.

"Let's go."

* * *

It's long past sunset but the pier is far from dark, brightened by the neon lights of the amusement park and street lamps lining the walkways.

They locate the boardwalk she'd jumped off of easily, traversing the beach to the sand beneath.

"I'll start over there where Ganz went down, you start here," Castle suggests, gesturing across the sand before turning to face her. "Meet in the middle?"

Kate squints as she finds herself suddenly blinded by a bright light emanating from her partner's… forehead? "Castle," she hisses, turning away and holding a hand up to block the intense beam.

"Right, sorry," he apologizes, tilting his forehead away.

"Where did you even get a headlamp?" she asks, fumbling for her phone and switching on the flashlight.

"Had it in my suitcase," he answers with a shrug. As though it's a normal thing to pack for a trip to LA. Or anywhere, really.

Kate rolls her eyes, shakes her head. This ridiculous man.

"Sorry I don't have two."

She waggles her phone, beam of light tracing lines up and down his torso. "I think I'll survive."

"Great," he enthuses. "Now let's go on a treasure hunt!"

They separate to opposite ends of their searching radius and begin to work, scrupulously combing the sand with their detectors in hopes of recovering the lost jewelry. Kate makes her way along the length of the search zone focusing first on the left side, turning around at the midpoint and heading back, now searching the right side of the path along which she'd chased Ganz mere hours earlier.

Castle, meanwhile, takes a different approach, waving the detector back and forth across the entire width of the search zone as he makes his way slowly toward their designated central point. It's tedious work but he approaches it with the same meticulousness he devotes to his writing, sweeping back and forth precisely, as though he's mowing the lawn and doesn't want to miss a single blade of grass.

Not that he's ever actually mowed a lawn, now that he thinks about it.

By the time he's almost reached the center, Kate has made it back to her starting point, and judging by the fact that she's sitting in the sand with her forehead resting against her bent knees, he assumes she hasn't found it. His heart clenches at the sight and, for the hundredth time, he curses everything about these last few days. Royce betrayed her, yes. But he knows she still admired him, knows – regardless of her past denials – she once loved him. And irrespective of their complicated history, he knows she's far more devastated by his death than she's letting on.

And now to have lost her mother's necklace, too. As though Royce's belief in her ability to one day find justice for Johanna had died along with him.

The mere thought breaks Castle's heart, and he wishes more than anything that he could sink down in the sand next to her and wrap her in his arms. In general, he spends far more time than he'd like to admit yearning for the feeling of having Kate in his arms again – two brief hugs were nowhere near enough, and he tries not to think about their time huddling in the freezer – but it's been a few weeks since he's felt such a fierce desire to hold her close.

The high-pitched noise of the detector sounds again, drawing him back to the task at hand. No doubt it's another false alarm; he's already found numerous bottle caps and soda can tabs, about a dollar in change, and an old rusty hair barrette. But he stops walking nonetheless, kneels down to see what has set off the detector.

Only this time, the culprit isn't a random object.

This time, when he illuminates the sand with his headlamp, there's a sapphire ring poking out. He snatches it up in excitement, is about to call out to Beckett when he realizes it's not attached to the chain.

But if the ring is here, the chain has to be somewhere nearby.

Castle rises and continues his sweep with renewed enthusiasm, running the detector multiple times over the surrounding sand, covering the last few feet to the end of his designated search area. He drops to his knees to search by hand as well, but to no avail.

In the end, though, the ring is the most important part of the necklace, and he's found that, so he turns off his headlamp, tosses it into the sand next to the detector, and makes his way towards his partner.

She's still seated in the sand as he approaches, head buried in her arms, and he can gauge her level of desolation by the fact that she doesn't react as he nears.

Castle squats down next to her, gently brushes a hand across her upper back as he murmurs her name.

She startles, head jerking up in surprise; even in the semi-darkness, he can see the lights of the pier reflected in the tears streaking down her cheeks. He unfolds his left hand, revealing the ring, and Kate gasps, hands flying to cover her mouth.

"Castle," she breathes.

"I didn't find the chain," he hedges. "I'm sorry."

"Oh my God," she chokes out, half laugh, half sob as she takes it from his outstretched palm with shaking hands. "I can't believe you found it."

"I had about twenty false alarms first," he admits with a quirk of his lips.

"Find anything good?" Kate asks with a hint of a smile, mood already noticeably lightened with the ring back in her possession.

He shrugs. "Ninety six cents and a bunch of old metal crap. You?"

She gets to her feet and Castle rises as well. "Seventy cents, some bottle caps, and the shell casing from my gun."

"At this rate we'll be rich by morning," he teases.

Kate rolls her eyes, suppresses a smile, before turning her attention back to the ring clutched in her hand.

"We can switch sides," Castle offers around a yawn, gesturing back to the search zone. "See if we can find the chain."

"It's late," she points out. "And we have to be up early."

He shrugs. "I don't mind. I can sleep on the plane."

"You're sure?"

In the moment, Castle wants nothing more than to cradle her jaw in his palm, make sure she understands once and for all that of course he's sure. That he'd do absolutely anything for her. But that's not the place he holds in her life and this definitely isn't the time for barely-concealed declarations of love. Instead, he simply offers a smile and a nod. "Of course."

* * *

They don't find the chain.

But it almost doesn't seem to matter, because Kate has the ring tucked safely in her pocket and for the first time in days she doesn't look like she's fighting back tears.

"You sure you don't want to keep looking?" Castle presses.

"The chain wasn't hers," she answers. "And we've been out here for almost two hours. I can buy a new one when we get back."

So they gather up the detectors and make their way back to the Ferrari, one of a surprising number of cars that still remain in the parking lot given that it's after midnight. New York is known as the city that never sleeps, but maybe the same is true in Los Angeles.

Kate is silent for the duration of the drive back, speaking only to insist she's capable of carrying one of the metal detectors once they've arrived at the hotel. Castle can tell she's exhausted and lost in thought so he merely maintains a silent presence next to her all the way back to their room, there by her side should she need him in any way.

He's about to wish her good night, leave her to her thoughts, when he feels her palm land on his arm, fingers soft against his skin.

"Castle, thank you," she murmurs gently, eyes fixed on the ring that's now cradled in her other hand. "You know how much this means to me and I wouldn't have found it without you."

"It's what partners do," he says with a shrug, not wanting to turn this moment into something more serious. It's late, they're both tired, and this tender side of Kate always renders his judgement moderately impaired, leaves him wanting more.

But Kate, it seems, has no such qualms, and he barely has time to react before she's wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispers again, lips brushing his skin as she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Castle shivers involuntarily, attempts to disguise it by tightening the embrace of his arms around her lower back.

"You're welcome," he utters, voice caught in his throat. He's never held her in his arms this long before, never had the chance for her scent to completely overwhelm him. She smells like hotel shampoo and the ocean and something unique that he can't put a name to. Something that's making his heart pound impatiently against the cage of his ribs.

It's a long moment before they separate and even then Kate seems reluctant to let him go. Her hands linger on his shoulders as she steps back and her eyes find his, locking into his gaze as she offers a wan smile.

"We should sleep," he states, simultaneously clinging to this moment and desperate to insert some space between them.

Kate nods in agreement, drops her arms to her sides and takes another step back.

"Good night," Castle whispers, offering a tentative smile.

She smiles back, eyes heavy with exhaustion but shining with a twinkle he hasn't seen in almost a week. "Night, Castle."

* * *

Kate shuts the door to her room, pulls her phone from her pocket to find a text from Josh, a missed call and a voicemail as well. It's almost 4am in New York; he must have gotten called in overnight. Kate sighs heavily as she reads his text, doesn't even bother with the voicemail. Between her work and his, they never see each other anymore and she finds she's actually pretty okay with the lack of contact in recent days.

Truthfully, they've been drifting closer to their inevitable end for weeks now. She just hasn't wanted to admit it.

But Josh doesn't know about her mom, wouldn't have understood the tears she shed today over the loss of the necklace. He doesn't know about her history with Royce either, didn't understand why she suddenly had to fly across the country for a case.

It's not his fault.

She's been shutting him out since the very beginning, just like she always does.

Except….

Not with Castle.

She adamantly shut him out at the beginning, too, but in the past two years she's shared more of herself and her history with him than she's ever shared with anyone. And in the process, she's found herself inadvertently sharing her heart with him as well.

She's been trying to force it down, trying to suppress these feelings she can no longer remember _not_ having, but she can't do it anymore. Not after everything Castle has done for her in the last few days. Not after the way he cradled her mere moments ago, nose to her temple and strong arms holding her upright when all she wanted to do was crumble to the floor in grief and exhaustion.

She's pretty sure he's in love with her. And she's pretty sure she's falling in love with him, too.

She's not about to dive into anything with him in her current state. But there is one thing she can do, one thing she's been putting off that's long overdue.

Kate sinks onto the end of the bed with a weary sigh, pulls up her contact list, and selects Josh's name.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	8. Chapter 8

_I was overwhelmed by the number of requests I received for a continuation of the last chapter! I haven't ruled it out, just waiting for inspiration to strike. But the plan is for this fic to be one-shots only, so if/when I do post a continuation it will be as a separate fic here or possibly on tumblr (dmarx dot tumblr dot com)._

 _And now, on to our next 'what if' scenario. Has this been done before? Probably. But I've actually written very few season 1 fics so I decided to give it a whirl._

* * *

 **#8: What if… Kate takes Castle up on his offer to be debriefed in _Flowers For Your Grave_ – and then has to work with him?**

 **Prompt by Lou**

* * *

 _"Well_ _, guess this is it."_

 _"It doesn't have to be. We could, uh, go to dinner. Debrief each other."_

Kate rolls her eyes, something she's found herself doing with alarming frequency the last few days. She's a little surprised the muscles of her eye sockets aren't sore.

"'Debrief?' Really?" she challenges, arms folded across her chest and eyebrow raised.

"Well, technically I wear boxers, but de-boxer just doesn't have the same ring to it," he adds with a shrug.

Her eyes roll again, almost of their own volition this time. "De-boxer?" she echoes. "That how you get all the ladies into bed with you?"

Castle shoves his hands in his pockets, deflates slightly. "Admittedly, I'm usually a little smoother than this."

In the moment, he looks less like the cocky jackass he's been the last few days and, damn it, Kate finds herself liking the fact that it wasn't smooth. In fact, she's secretly thrilled to know that she can throw her favorite author so completely off his game while standing on a street corner in an utterly bland work outfit, hair un-styled and minimal make-up. For someone with such a playboy reputation, he should be a whole lot more charming and suave and confident right now.

Before crashing his book party, she'd feared her love of his novels would be ruined once she actually had to deal with the man behind the words that saved her life. Her fears clearly weren't completely unfounded. He's been nothing but arrogant and annoying and obtrusive since the moment they met and – more than once – she's found herself wishing they never had.

But this… this is different. He looks hesitant, insecure. The complete opposite of all the qualities she's come to despise in him. All the qualities she's been repeating in her mind as a mantra for why she's absolutely not going to give in to the chemistry and attraction whose existence she really can't deny.

Castle is gazing at her with those bright blue eyes, so full of hope, though the eagerness is disappearing by the minute, being replaced by defeat as the moments stretch and Kate doesn't reply.

"Fine," she concedes, still not entirely sure she won't come to regret this. "We can go to dinner."

His eyes light up in an instant and he's practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he trails her back to her squad car, already excitedly yammering on about the vast selection of wine and delicious alfredo at some restaurant she's never heard of that's probably far out of her price range.

* * *

This isn't a date. Absolutely not. Kate opens her own doors, pulls back her own chair, and places her own order. She also declines his offer to feed her a bite of the "world's most delicious alfredo."

She's not eating off his fork. Because it's not a date.

Despite her adamancy, though, she ends up having a surprisingly good time. Here in private, Castle is somewhat more down-to-earth. He seems to have _finally_ realized she's not the least bit impressed by his money or his fame or stories of his wild and not always entirely legal escapades. But they manage to keep up a steady conversation about his family and his writing and how he goes about doing research for his books and – at his relentless insistence – a few stories of her time as a cop.

He seems utterly intrigued, hanging on her every word, and she's more than a little confused because she's not _that_ interesting. But for whatever reason, Castle genuinely seems to find her fascinating.

He also comes off as entirely authentic – and a little bit tentative – when he asks her if she'd like to come back to his place for the evening. Not at all the glib, overconfident, innuendo-laden pick-up line she'd been anticipating.

Kate hesitates.

Though she's had her fair share of wild times, she's never really been the type for one-night stands. She had a few many years ago, drunk and shattered in the aftermath of her mother's murder, seeking the feeling of something other than heartbreak for a night in the bed of some equally intoxicated college guy she'd picked up at a party or a bar.

But she never liked the way she felt the morning after, and once the piercing grief of her mother's death began to fade into a dull ache she no longer found herself seeking comfort quite so recklessly.

Truthfully, her main source of comfort in recent years has been her job.

Not that she's currently in need of comfort. Or a man. She doesn't need either one of those things. But she can reluctantly admit – at least to herself – that she _wants_ one. She wants him. She wants him far more viscerally than she should considering that he absolutely drives her up the wall most of the time.

Kate has a feeling he could probably drive her crazy in other ways as well. Other more enjoyable, frustrating, satisfying ways.

She's probably going to regret this but… well, screw it. Or, him, actually.

It's been a long time since she's let loose like this and he clearly likes her and wants her and she's secretly more than a little curious to see if his _claims_ actually are on the larger side.

* * *

(They are.)

* * *

When she wakes in the wee hours of the morning, bare skin caressed by the soft fabric of Castle's expensive sheets and sore in places she hasn't been sore in a long while, she finds she doesn't regret it at all.

Truthfully, it was the best sex she's had in… well, possibly ever.

In fact, her head still feels a little fuzzy from the aftereffects of their 3am dalliance. The man really knows what he's doing; she's not sure she's ever lost control so thoroughly. Then again, she's also not sure she's ever been with a man who possessed such a single-minded determination to make her completely fall apart. Multiple times.

Castle certainly has every reason to be, well, _cocky_ in regard to his abilities in the bedroom.

Surprisingly, though, he hasn't been. It's… odd. And very unexpected from a man who's spent the better part of the last few days flaunting his wealth and connections and fame and driving her crazy in the process. It just doesn't add up; she's beginning to wonder which is the real Rick Castle and which is the fake.

Kate rolls over, expecting to the find the man himself asleep next to her, but the bed is empty. She bolts upright, glances around the room for the first time... she'd been otherwise occupied last night.

But this is definitely his place, so he obviously didn't sneak out.

She probably should, though. She shouldn't even have stayed this long.

Kate slips out of bed – oh, now there's a twinge she hasn't felt in a while – and makes her way into the en suite, tripping over a pair of pants in the process. She uses the toilet and splashes some water on her face, runs her fingers through her hair, but there's really no point. It looks like she spent the night rolling around in bed and there's no way she'll be able to tame it without a shower.

Not for the first time, she questions her decision to chop all her hair off.

She exits the bathroom, leaving the light on to illuminate the bedroom. She locates her shoes, socks, and underwear fairly easily, finds her blouse splayed across a lamp and, oh, those were _her_ pants she tripped over. And where the hell is her bra?

Five minutes later she decides to just leave without it. It's old and it's one of her least expensive ones, and don't guys like him like to keep trophies anyway?

She's tugging on her left shoe as she exits his bedroom, finds herself in an office with bookshelves for walls and Richard Castle sitting in a leather chair, feet up on his desk and laptop balanced on his thighs.

She tugs up the zipper on her boot, drawing his attention.

His head jerks up, startled, eyes slowly coming into focus in the dim light provided by a single lamp. "Beckett?"

"Oh, uh, hi," she stammers, completely caught off guard. This is not at all how she was hoping this whole 'sneaking out' thing would go. "I was just… I need to go home and shower before work."

"Right," he answers, setting the laptop aside and sliding his feet from the desk. "I was just, uh," he gestures to his laptop, "doing some writing."

"At five in the morning?"

"Curse of a writer's brain," he offers with a one-shouldered shrug and a glimpse of a smile. "Sometimes the words come pouring out and if I don't write them down right away they'll be gone."

"New book?" she asks, trying to disguise the depths of her interest, the deep-seated thrill of witnessing her favorite author writing the very words she might someday be reading. She misses Derrick Storm, misses the excitement of opening one of his new novels and losing herself in the masterful prose.

Castle shrugs again, both shoulders this time. "Possibly. It might end up being nothing."

"Oh."

"But, I mean, you never know."

"Of course," she replies automatically, as though she has any knowledge of the concept.

He rises. "Can I…"

"Well, I…" Kate speaks at the same time and they both stutter to a halt.

"Go ahead," Castle gestures.

"I was just saying I should go," she elaborates, continuing her path towards the front door.

Castle crosses to the living room, flicks on a light. "Can I make you some coffee for the road?"

"Oh, no thank you," Kate declines politely, stilted. She's forgotten how much she despises the awkward mornings after. "But, uh, thanks for dinner and, you know."

"Right," he agrees, now standing self-consciously in the middle of the living room clad in only boxers and a robe that's hanging open. "It was a good night."

Kate offers a small smile before turning away, grabbing her purse from the table by the door and slipping from the loft in relief.

Well. That was certainly one of her more bumbling and uncomfortable morning-after experiences.

Even so, she finds she still doesn't regret it.

* * *

Kate is somewhat in a daze all day at work, still fully engrossed in not regretting last night. They don't have an active case, just paperwork from the Tisdale murders, which gives her mind far too many opportunities to wander.

So she's inappropriately startled from her salacious memories when Montgomery calls her name, summoning her to his office for a follow-up on the case.

And – as it turns out – to inform her that the man who spent part of last night with his head between her legs while she writhed and moaned in helpless abandon is now going to be her shadow on a daily basis for an undetermined amount of time. The man who is standing in the doorway with a knowing smirk on his face.

Kate narrows her eyes, levels him with her harshest glare. If he thinks he's going to just march in here looking all scruffy and barrel his way into her life with permission of her captain and the mayor, he's sorely mistaken.

But his smile doesn't falter and her angry reaction seems to only spur him on; he raises an eyebrow and, damn it, why does she find that so sexy even when she's furious with him?

So she does the only thing she can. She turns and stalks away without a word, detouring to her desk to snatch her empty coffee mug before striding to the break room and slamming the door behind her.

"Hey," he offers mere moments later, poking his head in as she's rinsing her mug in the sink. She should have figured a closed door wouldn't keep him out.

Kate deposits her mug onto the countertop far too forcefully as she whirls around to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"Captain Montgomery just told you," Castle answers, letting himself the rest of the way into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Book research."

"So this morning, when you said you were starting something new," she states in annoyance, "you were writing about _me_?"

"Well not you specifically, but you certainly inspired me to…"

"I swear to God, if you were writing an inspired sex scene…" Kate hisses.

"I wasn't," he answers, though she can see she's piqued his intrigue. "Although," he adds with a waggle of his eyebrows, "after last night, I definitely have some ideas."

"Castle."

"And I'm glad to know that's the first place your mind went."

She narrows her eyes.

"It wasn't a sex scene," he promises, hazarding a few steps in her direction; her glare doesn't soften so he grinds to a halt near the table in the center of the room. "It was just some character background and potential plot points."

"For a novel?"

"Well, that is what I'm known for."

"Castle."

"For a novel," he confirms.

Kate crosses her arms angrily. "This was your plan? You lure me into bed with you for what was supposed to be a one-time thing and now suddenly you think you can just barge into my life?"

"It wasn't a plan," he protests. "And I didn't lure you into bed. I asked and you came willingly. Multiple times," he adds, looking far too pleased with his double entendre.

"Castle."

"I swear," he promises, arms raised in supplication. "There was no plan. I can't plan when inspiration will strike."

"Yes, well, you can plan when to follow that inspiration and when to let it go."

"You know, most people would be flattered by this."

"Flattered?" she drawls with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow.

"That you've inspired me to create a new character based on you," he explains as though it's obvious.

"I'd be more flattered if you'd leave me alone," she insists, turning her attention back to coffee. "One night together doesn't give you permission to waltz into my life on a more permanent basis."

"Who said we can't have more than one night?"

Kate whirls around again, coffee carafe in hand and daggers in her eyes. "Me."

"Actually, you didn't say that," he points out.

"Well I'm saying it now," she states, leaving no room for argument. "That was a one-time thing, and so was your little charade of playing cop for a few days, so you can leave now. I have work to do."

And with that, she abandons her attempts at coffee, shoving the carafe back into place and stalking from the break room without a backwards glance.

Now she definitely regrets last night.

* * *

He makes her coffee.

He actually makes her a cup of coffee – somehow managing to assemble it exactly the way she likes it – and gently places it on her desk next to her keyboard.

Kate resolutely doesn't look up.

A small paper bag, folded over at the top, appears next to the mug of caffeine.

"What the hell is this?" she hisses, lifting her gaze to the offending object but still purposefully avoiding his.

Castle helps himself to the chair next to her desk, leans in far closer than is appropriate for a workplace. "You left your bra."

"What?" Kate whispers harshly, finally forced to meet his eyes.

"Your bra," the author repeats quietly. "It was tangled in the sheets."

She snatches the bag from the desktop, angrily shoves it into her bottom desk drawer without a word.

"Look, I get it," Castle continues, still leaning towards her with his elbow resting on a pile of paperwork. "It was a one-time thing. We can pretend it never happened, if you want. But I've written more in the last few hours than I've written since I finished _Storm Fall_ four months ago. This character… I have so many ideas already. She's gonna be great and you're gonna love her."

"I highly doubt that."

"You will," he assures her.

"Fine," she answers, dismissive, as she attempts to refocus on her paperwork. At this point, she really doesn't care either way. She hates him and she's never reading one of his books ever again. "But that still doesn't mean you're following me around. You're a best-selling author, you shouldn't need to semi-stalk me in the name of research just so you can write another book."

"Well it's pretty difficult to base a character on you when I don't know that much about you," he points out, far too rationally.

She picks up a pen, turns her attention to the pile of paper in front of her. "Then don't base one on me."

"Too late."

Kate huffs a sigh, tosses the pen aside and glares at him in annoyance. "Castle."

"Look, Montgomery's on board, the mayor is on board, and my publisher is on board," he recites. "This is happening, and I'd really like it if you didn't spend the whole time wanting to shoot me."

"So now you're not even pretending to care what I want?" she challenges, arms folding across her chest. "You're just telling me this is how it's going to be?"

"I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"Because you're intruding on my life," Kate hisses under her breath, aware of Ryan and Esposito's not-so-subtle eavesdropping. "And you've done nothing but annoy me and get in my way since the moment I met you. I'm a cop, not a babysitter, and I can't have you messing up my cases or getting yourself injured because you're too immature to follow my instructions."

"I think you'll recall I followed your instructions very precisely last night," he offers in a low voice that absolutely does _not_ turn her on.

"Castle," she snaps.

"I'll stay out of the way," he concedes. "And I'll follow your instructions. Scout's honor."

"We've already established that you were never a scout."

"Fine. But I promise. You won't even know I'm here."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Somehow I doubt that."

"So I can stay?" he asks eagerly, eyes twinkling, body buzzing with excitement.

She reclaims her pen, diverts her attention away from him once again. "Well it's not like I have a choice in the matter."

"Yesssss," he enthuses. "I promise, you won't regret this."

"I already do," she answers automatically.

"Well then, my dear Detective, I will simply have to spend the next few months convincing you otherwise."

"Months?" she echoes, exercising every ounce of self control in order to keep her voice a normal volume and her gaze focused on the work in front of her. Work she's clearly never going to complete now that she has an immature, obnoxious shadow who never shuts up.

Castle shrugs as though it's no big deal. "Hard to say. Inspiration is a fickle thing. But feel free to provide me with some at any time," he adds with another annoyingly sexy eyebrow waggle.

"Right," Kate snorts with a roll of her eyes. She knows exactly what kind of inspiration he's searching for and there's no way she's providing him with that ever again.

She lasts four days before dragging him home with her, shoving him into bed, and climbing on top of him in an attempt to shut him up.

* * *

(It works.)

* * *

 _I may or may not have borrowed the bra scene from an episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine. Which, if you haven't watched, you definitely should._

 _Thoughts? Prompts? Send them my way!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Okay, so I didn't *exactly* use the specific ideas I was given along with this prompt (my bad!) but hopefully this is close enough._

* * *

 **#9: What if… Castle wasn't willing to ignore their undercover kiss in 3x13?**

 **Prompt by Jamie**

* * *

It's almost eleven by the time they wrap up at the scene, Lockwood taken into custody and the bodies of his men transported to the morgue. Montgomery sends them all home, despite Kate's protests that they should head back to the precinct, keep working to figure out who Lockwood really is and who hired him. But Montgomery is insistent, which is how Kate finds herself in her cruiser with Castle, headed back to SoHo to drop him off.

They don't speak.

In fact, they haven't really spoken since the ambulance, since she rewrapped the bandage on his hand far more tenderly than she probably should have. But he beat a man senseless to save her life, and as much as she hates that she's dragged him into her darkness she's extremely grateful to have such an incredible partner who will do anything to protect her.

She'd do anything to protect him as well.

That realization isn't what's caused them to lapse into silence, though. No. Not at all. She's pretty sure it's the awkwardness and crackling electricity that's rendered them both uncertain of what to say, what happens next. She can still taste him on her tongue, can feel the burn of his palm on her cheek.

If the sidelong glances he's throwing her way are any indication, he's still feeling the aftereffects too.

* * *

It's past eleven when she finally inserts the key into the lock, opens her front door. The awkwardness of their goodbye still hangs around her, stilted 'good nights' they exchanged as Castle slipped from the car onto the nearly empty sidewalk.

It was just a ruse. A stupid idea. It shouldn't be driving a wedge between them like this.

Kate's phone buzzes as she closes and locks the door and she pulls it from her pocket to find a text from Josh wishing her a good night. It's half past seven in the morning in Uganda, time for him to begin his day.

She hesitates. She should reply. Actually, she should call him. It's been almost a week since they were awake and available to talk at the same time.

But she finds she doesn't want to. Despite the fact that he's been away nearly three weeks now, she doesn't really miss him. It's not like they spent that much time together even when he wasn't abroad. He was her dinner date maybe once a week, the man she spent the night with whenever their schedules aligned. Half the time they didn't even make it through a whole night together, interrupted by the ringing of her phone or the beeping of his pager. Truthfully, there's not much to miss.

He doesn't know about her mother, doesn't know anything about what's happened this week. As far as he's concerned, it's been just another murder case.

But Kate knows she can't keep lying to him indefinitely. She hasn't actually _told_ him any lies, but she's certainly done a lot of lying by omission. And she'll definitely be lying now if she calls him and tells him she misses him.

Kate sighs heavily, tugs off her boots, leaving them in the middle of the floor as she sinks into the sofa with her phone in her hand.

She's a coward.

She's a complete coward for doing this over the phone.

But she's wide awake, her entire body buzzing, and it has nothing to do with her boyfriend and everything to do with the fake but completely real kiss she shared with Castle three hours ago.

She wants to kiss him again. She wants to... well, she's not entirely sure what she wants to happen next.

But whatever it is, it can't happen as long as Josh is in the picture. It wouldn't be fair to him or to Castle.

She's not looking forward to this conversation, but it desperately needs to be had. With another heavy sigh, Kate leans back into the corner of the sofa and dials Josh.

* * *

She hasn't moved from her position thirty minutes later when there's a knock at her door, and she doesn't have to glance through the peep hole to know who it is. There's only one person who would show up at her apartment after midnight.

Kate covers her face with both hands, releases a shaking breath. She's not ready for this. Yes, she broke up with Josh because of Castle, but she's not ready to see him again so soon. Not when she can still taste his kiss and feel his touch. Not when she's only been single for half an hour. Not now that there's nothing stopping her from kissing him again.

Another knock resounds through the quiet darkness and Kate forces herself to stand, crosses to the door on legs that suddenly feel like jelly.

She swings it open and Castle is on her before she can react in any way, uninjured hand cradling her jaw as his lips descend to capture hers. Kate takes a haphazard step back, thrown off balance, wraps both hands around his upper arms to right herself. He doesn't move to deepen the kiss, but it still has her stomach turning somersaults and her head going fuzzy.

Castle breaks away much too soon but he doesn't go far, forehead resting against hers and his shaky exhale mingling with her own disjointed breathing.

"It was supposed to be fake," he utters in a low voice after a long moment.

"Wh… what?" she manages, the word stuck in her throat.

"To distract the guard," he clarifies, capturing her lips again in a searing kiss. "It was supposed to be a ruse."

"It… was," she answers, but she doesn't sound the least bit convincing, not even to her own ears.

"Maybe the first one was," he presses on, kissing her again. "But you kissed me back. And you _moaned_."

Kate steps back, dropping her arms and putting some distance between them; she can't concentrate when he keeps kissing her. He reluctantly lets her go but when she meets his eyes they're a deep blue, full of determination and lust and, wait… what did he just say?

"I did _not_ moan," she protests.

"Yes, you did," he states. "And I can't stop thinking about it."

"Castle."

"It was real," he presses on. "And you felt it, too."

She averts her eyes, sighs heavily. Castle is gazing at her like he wants her but can't have her, like he's using every last ounce of restraint to stop himself from kissing her again, and it's making her heart clench in her chest.

She wants him to want her. She wants him too, but not right now. Or, at least, she shouldn't want him right now. She's been single for less than an hour. But Castle doesn't know any of this and beneath the fierce want she can see the sadness and disappointment in his eyes.

His next words cause her heart to clench even more tightly.

"I'm sorry," he says with a shake of his head. "I know you're with Josh and you're happy with him and I'm…"

"No," Kate says softly. She's not sure what happens next, but she doesn't want him to be sorry and she needs to put an end to this unrequited longing.

Her partner stumbles to a halt. "What?"

Against her better judgement, she lifts her gaze back to his. The normally clear blue of his eyes is shrouded in confusion but with shreds of hope peeking in around the edges. "We're not together anymore."

Castle shoves his hands into his pockets, fidgets nervously. "You're not?"

She shakes her head.

"Since when?"

Kate shrugs. "Yesterday."

Technically it's not a lie. She broke up with Josh around 11:30pm and it's now after midnight.

"I, uh…" he hesitates, and she can tell from his uncertainty that he wants to press harder. She thinks he may even have his suspicions, may have already figured it out. "Why?" Castle finally asks, curiosity apparently getting the better of him.

She semi-dodges the question. "I think you know why."

He leans one shoulder against the doorway, raises an eyebrow. "I have a guess."

Kate closes her eyes, drags her lower lip between her teeth in hesitation. Verifying his assumption, saying it aloud makes it all real, and she's not sure she's ready for it to be real just yet.

"Are you okay?"

Her eyes blink open in surprise at the softening of his tone, the genuine concern in his voice. "Yeah. Just… hell of a week."

Castle slips his hands from his pockets, extends both arms in her direction. The gesture is soft and consoling, not heated and passionate; only Castle could so sincerely make the switch from kissing her senseless to comforting her tenderly. One of the many things she lo… _likes_ about him.

Before she can overthink it – either his actions or her mental slip-up – Kate steps forward, allows him to fold her into his embrace. She spends so much time in heels that she sometimes forgets he's quite a few inches taller than she is. But here, in her bare feet, they fit together perfectly. Castle cradles her gently, arms firm and warm around her shoulders as hers loop around his back. She takes a deep breath, allows herself to melt into his broad frame and feels the taut muscles of his back soften beneath her hands as he too relaxes into her. He drops his temple to the top of her head, sighs contentedly.

It fleetingly crosses her mind that Josh never held her like this. Then again, she never really let him. Their relationship was more lust and attraction than affectionate and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry if I made a mess of things with you two," Castle murmurs into her hair, drawing her from her thoughts.

"It's not your fault."

"I really did intend for it to just be a ruse."

Kate nods against his shoulder. "I know."

They fall silent for a long moment before she speaks again. "How's your hand?"

"Turns out hugging you is a pretty good pain reliever."

She huffs a laugh.

"So where does this leave us?" Castle asks as they finally separate.

Kate drops her arms to her sides, shakes her head. "I don't know."

"Can I kiss you again?"

He looks so serious, so hesitant, so Kate lifts a hand to cup his cheek, gentle pressure of her fingertips urging him closer. Their lips meet softly once, twice, lingering before Castle finally pulls away. Kate's eyes flutter open and she smiles up at him, assuaging the doubt that still clouds his eyes. He smiles back and her stomach flips at the emotion in his gaze. He looks like he…

No.

Kate sternly pushes the thought away.

She steps back, trailing gentle fingers down his jaw before allowing her arm to fall away. It's late and they're both exhausted and wrung out and she doesn't want to do something they'll come to regret. They owe it to themselves to do this right.

"Can I take you out sometime?" Castle asks, continuing their conversation.

"Yeah, just…" she hesitates, struggling for the words to reply without upsetting him.

"After the dust settles," he answers for her.

Kate exhales in relief, nods. "Yeah."

His lips quirk into a small smile, head nodding in understanding.

"Then I should, uh," he thumbs over his shoulder towards the door that still hangs half open, "probably head home."

"Probably," she echoes reluctantly.

Castle pauses in the doorway, uncertain. "I'll see you Monday?"

Kate smiles, closes the gap between them to press a final kiss to his lips. "See you Monday."

"Good night, Kate," he murmurs, catching the couple strands of hair that are stuck in her mascara and tucking them behind her ear with such reverence that her heart melts.

He's halfway to the elevator before she manages to untangle the words.

"Night, Castle."

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you all for your lovely reviews that I never seem to have time to respond to, but that I appreciate so very much!_

 _And thank you to Andy for putting up with all the half-finished chapters I've been sending her... and for helping me figure out how to finish them :)_

 _This one picks up at the very end of 4x19, under the assumption that if Castle didn't hear her accidental confession, things would have continued normally._

* * *

 **#10: What if… Castle never heard the interrogation in 47 Seconds?**

 **Prompt by Lou**

* * *

 _"You know, now that the case is done… what did you want to talk about?"_

She's gazing at him with such tentativeness, but he can see hope sparking in her eyes too; as though she knows what he wants to say. He thinks she probably does. After all, she'd been the first one to bring it up the other day, before they got interrupted.

Castle hesitates, glances around. There are so many things they need to talk about but… not at the precinct. Or the Old Haunt.

"Not here," he says softly. "But… my place?"

Kate smiles, accepts without hesitation. "Let's go."

* * *

It's late, well past midnight, and the drive to Castle's loft takes only a few minutes. Kate keeps both hands firmly on the steering wheel, eyes fixed out the windshield, forcing herself to remain calm. She's almost positive she knows what Castle wants to talk about because she's been thinking it too.

Life is short. She's painfully aware of that. It's a lesson she learned the hard way twelve years ago, a lesson she re-learned less than a year ago.

She's been holding back, giving herself time to heal and work things out, because she so desperately wants to finally do things right. But after this case, she can't hold back anymore. Not if it might mean she misses her chance entirely.

Even so, she's terribly nervous; it's as though an angry swarm of bees has been released in her stomach and a boa constrictor has wound itself around the wall of her chest, constricting her heart and lungs. There's excitement and anticipation in there somewhere as well at the prospect of finally falling into his arms and giving in to what she so desperately wants. But at the moment, it's being completely drowned out by nerves.

For his part, Castle seems nervous, too. He's uncharacteristically still and silent, and though he throws the occasional surreptitious glance in her direction, he's mostly staring absently into the night.

Kate maneuvers her cruiser into a parking space outside the loft, kills the engine. Castle is already opening the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and Kate follows suit. He waits for her at the curb, offers a smile when their eyes meet and rests a gentle hand on her back as they cross the sidewalk and enter his building. He drops his hand as they wait for the elevator, raises it again to guide her into and out of the lift with soft pressure against the arch of her spine.

His touch both calms her and sends her already frazzled nerves into even more of a state of chaos.

Castle inserts the key into the lock with much less trouble than she would have had, opens the door and steps back to allow Kate entry before crossing the threshold after her and closing the door. The loft is silent; Martha is teaching an early morning acting class and Alexis has headed off to the Hamptons for the weekend with Paige following Lanie's insistence that the teen take a few days off after this last case.

Castle helps Kate out of her jacket, fingers brushing against her skin, and she shivers. The nerves are almost unbearable now, but so is the silence. She doesn't know what to say, has no idea where to even begin after all they've been through these last few months… but she does have an idea of what she could do.

Castle drapes her jacket over a hanger, slides his into place as well before shutting the closet door. He turns, poised to speak – she thinks – but before any words can leave his mouth Kate steps forward, catching his jaw with both hands and capturing his lips with her own.

* * *

Castle freezes, stunned.

Kate Beckett is kissing him.

He should probably kiss her back.

But before he has a chance to respond she's pulling away, green eyes blinking open to seek his. In them, he can see the cloud of confusion, and in the moment his only coherent thought is to make it go away. He wants her, he loves her, and he doesn't want there to be any doubt of that.

Castle catches her by the hips as her arms fall from his jaw, keeping her close as he bridges the gap between them again and kisses her firmly. Kate's hands come to rest against his chest, palms splaying wide across his rib cage, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. Her tongue comes out to battle with his, a dance they've danced only once before, nearly a year and a half ago, and yet it feels familiar.

As if he could ever forget what it's like to kiss her.

Kate's hands trace twin paths up his chest to curl around his neck and he loops his arms around her lower back in response, pulling her closer. A moan slips from her throat, spurring him on. It's the same damn sound she made in that dark alley and he wants to hear it again and again for the rest of his life.

Except… they haven't discussed that yet. They haven't discussed anything. Talking is the last thing he wants to do, but they really can't afford a miscommunication right now. He needs to be certain they're on the same page.

"We really should talk," Castle pants against her mouth, breaking their kiss just enough to get the words out.

"We will," she assures him, chasing his lips, reeling him back in.

"Just…" Castle pulls back, meets her eyes. Her pupils are wide and dark, swirling with passion and shimmering with desire, and the mere sight very nearly derails his train of thought. "Promise me this isn't a one-time thing."

"It's not," Kate affirms, swears, and he can see the steely certitude in her gaze. "I promise."

* * *

Kate is curled beneath the blankets, caught in that blissful place between sleep and wakefulness, when she feels the bed shift next to her. She forces her eyes open to find Castle gazing at her in what she can only describe as awe. As though he can't believe they're here. Can't believe they made it.

She completely understands the sentiment. She's having a little trouble believing it herself.

"Hey," she whispers, voice hoarse with sleep.

"Hey," he replies, lips curving into the smile that makes his eyes crinkle. She loves that smile almost as much as she loves the man it belongs to.

Kate reaches out, combs her fingers through the bangs that flop adorably over his forehead and refuse to stay back, despite her efforts. He leans into her touch, allows his eyes to fall closed as they cherish this newfound intimacy.

"What time is it?" she murmurs a moment later as her hand falls away.

"Late," Castle replies, forcing his eyes open with what appears to be a great deal of effort. He's clearly still as blissfully sated as she is. "Or, early, I suppose."

"Hmmm."

"You're off tomorrow?"

Kate nods.

"Any plans?"

She shrugs, shoulders rising and falling beneath the covers. "I was thinking I'd just stay right here."

He props himself up on one elbow. "Oh yeah?"

Kate rises to mimic his position and the blankets fall away, exposing her bare chest. Castle's gaze drops immediately, seeking this newly exposed skin.

"I mean, unless you have other plans," she adds.

"No, no plans," he murmurs, half-distracted.

Castle reaches for her, palm spreading wide across her bare side, covering the puckered skin that rises above the rest. She knows he discovered it earlier, felt the way his touch had faltered when his fingers first encountered the damaged skin, but he hadn't commented, merely continued his thorough exploration of her body.

He does now, though, tracing the line with his finger as he asks, "does it still hurt?"

"No," she replies with a shake of her head.

"Does the other one?"

"Sometimes," she admits.

Castle nods thoughtfully as his hand comes to rest in the curve of her waist. "But you're healed now?"

"Physically, yes."

"And everything else?"

She hesitates.

"Kate?"

She pushes herself into a seated position, tugging the covers with her as she leans back against the headboard and curls her knees into her chest. This is the part of the conversation she's been dreading, and she finds herself suddenly very aware that she's naked, completely exposed. She doesn't even have the darkness as a cover; the moon and the lights of Manhattan filter through the open curtains, casting the room in a golden glow.

Castle follows her lead, rising into a seated position as well, and she's grateful for the space and time as she tries to work through the words in her head. She'd been planning to think this all through before they had this conversation. Then again, she hadn't planned on having this conversation while naked in his bed at two o-clock in the morning.

"I've been seeing a therapist," she finally admits.

He turns his head, seeks her eyes in the semi-darkness. "I didn't know that."

Kate meets his gaze briefly before dipping her chin, allowing her eyes fall closed. "I'm not there yet," she confesses with a slight shake of her head. "Not completely. But after this last case I just thought… maybe you could help me knock down the last few bricks?"

She lifts her eyes, cautiously seeking his, finds him gazing at her with so much tenderness it takes her breath away. "I'd love to."

* * *

Castle is pleasantly surprised to find that not much changes now that they're together. Fundamentally, they're still the same. They follow leads, build theory, solve cases like they always have. He still brings her coffee and she still accepts it with a thank you and a soft smile. The only difference is that, at the end of the day, they go home together.

Some things are different, though. In private, Kate is softer and more open with him than he ever could have imagined. She's never been one for words and that hasn't really changed, but he can see the adoration in her eyes and the happiness in her smiles and he can feel the love in the tender way she caresses his skin and combs her fingers through his hair.

He so desperately wants to tell her he loves her – again, when she'll remember it this time – but he holds back, allows things to proceed at her pace. She admitted she wasn't quite ready and he's happy to help in any way he can, even if that means exercising a great deal of self-restraint for the next few months while they work – together and separately – to tear down what remains of that wall around her heart.

In the meantime, he gets to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake up with her by his side and he really can't ask for anything more than that.

* * *

Their newfound bliss comes skidding to a halt the day Captain Montgomery's house is broken into.

Things are fine at first. Kate allows him to subtly capture her hand in comfort, turns to him for reassurance. But from there, everything quickly begins to unravel.

It's when she goes home alone the following evening with barely more than a mumbled 'good night' that he knows he has to do something. Even if she's not going to like it.

She doesn't.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" Kate huffs as she opens the door following his insistent knocking.

"You're shutting me out," he states, crossing into her apartment and coming to a stop in the middle of the room. He can't help but notice the file spread across the coffee table, the dark circles painted beneath her eyes. This is not good.

Kate closes and locks the door. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," he persists. "And you know it."

"Fine," she concedes in annoyance. "I just… need some space."

"Last time you asked for space I didn't hear from you for three months," he points out.

"Just... until I solve this case."

"That could easily be another three months."

"Castle, please," she protests. "I need to put this guy away. You know that, so please just let me do my job and we can deal with everything else later."

"No," he argues. "Because you're not just looking for space. You're looking to run away from everyone who's trying to help you so you can fall back down the rabbit hole."

"I'm not…"

"Yes, you are," he interrupts before she can even finish her pointless denial. "And they're going to kill you if you don't stop."

She folds her arms across her chest, defiant. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Castle sighs heavily, runs a hand through his hair in distress. He hates that it's come to this, hates that he's about to start an even bigger fight, but the time has come. He has to tell her the truth.

* * *

She's torn between lividity, heartbreak, and surprise when his response to her anger is to confess his love for her with his heart in his throat and tears in his eyes.

It's not news. She's known for months, though he doesn't know that. But it still catches her off-guard, splits her already fragile heart wide open.

"Castle, don't," she pleads in desperation. She's barely holding herself together as it is. She'll break completely if this conversation goes much further. "Don't do this now."

"Then when?" he shoots back. "Last time I told you, you didn't remember. If I don't tell you now and they come after you again…"

He trails off and Kate lifts her head in confusion. "What?"

"You remembered." It's not a question.

She opens her mouth in an automatic denial, but no words come out and it's then that she knows she's been caught. Times like this, she absolutely hates that he can read her so well.

"When?"

"Castle, I can't do this right now," she deflects again. "I need to solve this case."

"No, you don't," he shoots back. "We've been over this. You have to stop."

"I can't. Not when we're this close."

"Bullshit," he calls out. "We're no closer than we were a year ago."

"Yes, we are," she hisses. "We have his face, we have the car keys. We're so close to catching this guy, Castle, so if you aren't going to help then please just leave and I'll call you when it's over."

"Damn it, Kate," he snaps, the sudden harshness in his voice causing her to flinch. "We've been doing this your way, at your pace, and that's fine, but you can't climb into bed with me when it's convenient and push me away when it's not. That's not how a relationship works."

"Then maybe we shouldn't be in one," she retorts, the words flowing out in anger and frustration before she can stop them.

She watches as they strike home, feels her heart stutter and clench in her chest as Castle's entire body deflates, shoulders sinking, eyes losing their shine.

He shoves his hands into his pockets in defeat. "If that's how you feel then maybe we shouldn't."

"Castle," she pleads, already regretting her outburst.

But he's turning his back, making his way to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, speaks but doesn't turn. "Goodbye, Beckett."

"Rick…" she calls brokenly, but it's no use. The door shuts behind him and she sinks to the ground, burying her face in her hands as the tears come streaming out in torrents.

Damn it.

This is why she should have waited, why she shouldn't have gone running into his arms – and his bed – after the bombing case. The wall had been coming down, yes. But it was never going to fall all the way until she solved this case, and she knew that.

She should have known she wouldn't be able to handle both.

* * *

Kate doesn't sleep. Can't. At four a.m. she finally gives up, forces herself to shower and dress and drags herself to work. She's not sure what she's hoping to accomplish, not with what little information they've actually managed to dig up on her sniper, but at least it gives her something to do that doesn't involve sitting at home, replaying her fight with Castle and failing to suppress the seemingly constant supply of tears that haven't stopped falling since he walked out.

* * *

Castle doesn't sleep either, too overwhelmed by the pain and heartbreak in addition to fear of the danger into which Kate is so blindly throwing herself. She may have kicked him out of her life but he still loves her. He doesn't imagine that will fade any time soon, and the day he reads her obituary will be the day his heart shatters forever.

He'd come to her apartment with the intent of protecting her, of confessing the secret he's been harboring for the past nine months. He hadn't imagined the conversation would go well, but he also hadn't imagined the evening would end like this.

How did everything go so horribly wrong?

* * *

He ignores a call from Ryan the next morning, before Alexis's graduation, ignores two calls from Beckett after he arrives back home. He has no obligation to answer; even so, he can't quite quench the guilt churning in his stomach.

He hates this.

Hates that he still loves her. Hates that she broke his heart twenty-four hours ago yet he still feels guilty for not taking her calls.

A sharp knocking echoes through the silence, coming from the direction of his front door. Castle sighs heavily as he crosses the loft, too busy forcing his emotions into hiding and faking a smile to give any consideration to who might be at the door. So he's caught completely off guard when he swings it open to reveal a soaking wet version of his ex-partner.

"Beckett," he stammers in surprise, momentarily taken aback before he regains his wits, remembers what she's done and erects a façade of indifference. "What do you want?"

"You," she breathes, crossing the threshold, catching him by the jaw and pressing her lips to his just as she'd done two months ago in this very same foyer. Except that kiss was filled with passion and desire and left him weak in the knees. This one is just breaking his heart.

"Beckett, stop," he pleads as he takes a step back, severing their connection, and the loss of her touch is nearly as painful as the unexpected kiss was to begin with.

Kate's arms fall to her sides and when she lifts her eyes to his, he can see she's been crying.

"Rick…" she begins, but he interrupts her, doesn't want to hear whatever half-assed excuse or explanation she's about to give.

"You can't break up with me and then show up at my front door and kiss me twenty-four hours later."

"I'm sorry," she whispers, at least having the decency to shake her head in shame. "I'm so sorry, Castle. I don't want us to break up. I never did."

"It didn't seem that way last night."

Kate sighs heavily, swipes at the line of tears now blazing a path down her cheeks. "You were right," she admits. "I was spiraling, and you were trying to protect me. I just didn't want to hear it. But then today…" she trails off, shakes her head once more. "You were right again. I almost died. And all I could think about was you and us and all the moments we'd never have."

"Kate…"

"There's no more case," she promises, takes a tentative step closer. She lifts watery eyes to his and through the pools of moisture he can see the steadfast determination in them. "No more walls." She reaches for his hands and, despite his anger, he doesn't resist when she cradles them in her palms, spending a moment to admire the perfect way they fit together before raising her eyes to his once more. "I'm all in, Castle."

She's gazing up at him expectantly, and he's still hurt and upset and a little wary, but he can hear the undeniable resolve in her voice. And she's here and she's alive when he thought he might never see her again, so he uses their joined hands to reel her in and kisses her.

Maybe it's against his better judgement, but he just loves her so damn much.

The kiss is bruising and Kate takes a step backwards as their lips clash, bumping against the still-open door to the loft and knocking it closed. Castle keeps the momentum going, pressing her back against the metal surface as his hands rise to frame her jaw. She clutches his arms, nails digging in so sharply they're probably leaving marks even through the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't care.

He thought he'd never get to kiss her again.

He breaks from her lips, trails a line of kisses across her jaw, down her neck, stopping to nip at her collarbone; her knees buckle in response and she tightens her grip in an effort to remain upright.

"Castle," she breathes as she slumps back against the door. "Oh, God."

He plants a gentle kiss to the spot to soothe the scrape of his teeth before pulling his lips away from her skin, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck. Kate cradles the back of his head with one hand, holding him in place as they both catch their breath.

At long last he lifts his head, blinks his eyes open to find hers dark and shimmering like liquid fire, so passionate and intense. Kate brushes her nose against his in the sweetest of Eskimo kisses as she seeks his hand, twines their fingers together. She pushes off the door, tugging him with her as she crosses the loft, leading them toward the bedroom he'd already begun to think of as 'theirs.'

He loves that she knows the way despite the lack of illumination, loves that she feels enough at home here to kick her shoes off and leave them in the middle of the bedroom floor, loves the alluring way she turns to him as she begins to unbutton her blouse, slowly revealing the skin he knows so well yet still not nearly well enough. He wants to spend the rest of his life exploring her body, reading her eyes, writing their story.

After everything they've been through in the last week, he won't share these desires with her right now. They need a few days to find their equilibrium again before he adds another layer to their relationship. But once they're settled, once the remnants of their temporary break up have faded away, he's going to finally tell her how he feels without anger or tears or the threat of death hanging over them.

Until then, he'll settle for spending every possible moment showing her how much he loves her.

Beginning with tonight.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	11. Chapter 11

_This one started off following the prompt and then completely developed a mind of its own and went in a very different direction than I was expecting._

 _Strong T rating at the beginning._

* * *

 **#11: What if… Kate had joined the boys in Atlantic City in 4x08 and woken up in bed with Castle?**

 **Prompt by Lou**

* * *

This isn't her bed.

It's the first thing Kate becomes aware of as she drifts into wakefulness.

She's not in her own bed. And the arm that's draped across her ribs is definitely not hers either.

Slowly, so as to not wake her softly snoring companion, she tilts her chin and lifts the sheet. She has a feeling she knows who she's in bed with, but she needs the confirmation.

Yep.

She recognizes that arm. And she definitely knows those hands. She's spent far more time than she cares to admit imagining what those hands would feel like on her skin.

Now she knows. She's felt those hands caress the entire length of her body, felt those fingertips trace her scars. She's fallen apart at the work of those hands.

Multiple times.

Her cheeks burn at the thought.

Oh, God. She's not sure she's ever lost control quite so completely. But she trusts Castle implicitly, so she'd dropped her guard and, well… He'd made her writhe and moan and beg as he brought her higher and higher before sending her flying over the edge into an utterly exhilarating free fall.

She presses her thighs together at the thought, feels the pull of muscles that haven't been sore in a long while.

Walking might be a problem today.

The first round had been fast and frantic, and they barely made it to the bed. Round two was slower but no less passionate as they took their time exploring each other's bodies.

Round three took place sometime in the wee hours of the morning, wrapped up in a cocoon of sleepiness as they tenderly came together. In more ways than one.

Kate snorts into her pillow at the thought.

Castle really has rubbed off on her.

As if on cue, the mattress shifts.

"Don't get up yet, stay in bed," he slurs from behind her, voice raspy with sleep.

She feels the press of his fingers against her side, tugging her to him. He slides closer as well, buries his face in her neck and exhales contentedly, erecting a row of goosebumps along her skin. She shudders involuntarily, her hip bumping against his… groin.

She smirks. He might still be half asleep, but part of him is very much awake.

"Mmmm, Kate," he murmurs, pressing his hips into her in response as the hand splayed at her side trails upwards, cupping her in the smooth warmth of his palm.

This wasn't her intention when she drove down to Atlantic City, and she certainly never imagined their first night together would be under these circumstances, but she really can't find it in herself to regret it. Any of it.

Castle's lips find the skin of her neck then and all thoughts of regret evaporate.

She could never regret this.

It's everything she's ever wanted.

* * *

They're pulled from their post-sex haze forty five minutes later by the ringing of her phone. It's Gates, looking for an update and no doubt wondering why she's not at her desk at nine o-clock on a Wednesday morning.

It was late when she wrapped up down here, she explains, so she got a hotel room. That part is mostly true.

The additional potential witness she needs to speak with this morning before she heads back to the city is a complete lie, but it's the best she can come up with when Castle's arm is looped around her from behind, its solid weight pressing her into the bed and cradling her against the hard lines of his body.

She insists on showering alone despite his incessant begging and nearly irresistible puppy dog eyes, mostly because she's not sure her body can handle a round five right now. He's still in bed when she emerges, looking deliciously rumpled and all kinds of sexy.

She's already a lost cause, isn't she?

All she wants to do, despite her protesting body parts, is climb back into bed with him.

* * *

She doesn't.

But she does greet him with a deep kiss when he shows up at her apartment the following afternoon, pressing him back against the door and practically climbing his body in her eagerness.

Castle doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

* * *

Being with Castle is easy. Fun. Exhilarating.

The first few days pass in a whirlwind of sex and nakedness and nights wrapped around each other in her bed or his, with no chance for her to consider the fact that she'd asked him to wait because she needed time to work through her recovery.

She hadn't been drunk that night in Atlantic City. They'd both had a couple beers, buzzed but far from intoxicated, when his hand first came to rest on her thigh. It was innocent enough. In fact, she's not even sure he was aware of it. They were smashed together in a booth with Ryan and Esposito – a booth that clearly wasn't meant for four full sized adults – and she and Castle were side by side, bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee, leaving very little space for their arms.

So when his palm spread over the fabric of her jeans, she didn't stop him.

But then her hand ended up on his thigh, too, and his fingers found the inseam of her jeans, tracing it higher and higher until it was all she could do not to straddle him right there in the booth and find some relief from the pulsing desire.

Somehow, Castle had remained focused on the conversation through all of this, eyes firmly _not_ fixed on her. But she could feel the muscles of his thigh beneath her palm, trembling with restraint, could see the growing bulge pressing against the confines of his pants.

They should have waited. She wasn't ready, wasn't even close, and she knew it.

But she wanted him.

Her entire body was craving his touch, arousal licking through her like fire, hot and fierce, and she was just so damn sick of _waiting_.

So rather than head back to the city, she'd followed him up to his room.

"You're sure about this?" he'd asked before they crossed the threshold. "I don't want to wake up alone and pretend this never happened."

"You won't," she'd promised.

And she'd kept her promise.

They hadn't really talked any more than that. Hadn't put a label on it, hadn't told their friends or families. But they'd spent almost every night together this past week.

Until a sniper started terrorizing the city.

Which is precisely why they should've waited, because now Kate is crouched in the corner of her living room with her gun in her hands, blood running down her arm, whiskey and shattered glass coating the floor. And Castle standing in the doorway, having unlocked her apartment using the spare key she pressed into his palm two days earlier so he could let himself in after spending the evening with Alexis.

She curses her decision to give him that key.

"Kate," he breathes, closing and locking the door behind him but not making any move to approach her.

She's thankful for that, at least.

"It's just me," he assures her.

 _I can see that,_ she wants to snap, but the words won't come out. Her whole body is still paralyzed with fear.

"Please don't shoot."

Kate stiffly swivels her head back to the gun she's clutching so tightly her knuckles are white. It's loaded but the safety is on. Nevertheless, she's regained enough presence of mind to realize she's in no condition to be wielding a firearm.

She sets the gun on the floor, forcefully shoves it away.

"Are you okay?" Castle asks tentatively. He's taken a few steps closer now but stops at the edge of the living room.

She's clearly not. But she didn't want him to know how very _not okay_ she actually is. Any minute now, he'll realize she's not worth loving and run out the door, never to return.

"I'll be fine," she manages through gritted teeth. "And you shouldn't be here."

"Given the circumstances, I'd say this is exactly where I should be," he replies without hesitation.

"I don't want your pity," she snaps.

"That's not why I'm here."

He's taking everything she throws at him and lobbing it right back, and she already knows she's going to lose this one, but she wouldn't be Kate Beckett if she didn't keep trying, even in her current state.

"Then why?"

"Because I care about you," he replies easily.

He says it so simply, makes it sound so effortless. As though caring for her is easy, when she knows it's not. She's a handful on a good day, but this is the worst day she's had in a long time.

"And if I don't want you here?"

He shrugs but doesn't reply.

 _Please just go_ , she thinks. She doesn't want to lose him, and she's certain he won't stay long after witnessing this. A fresh wave of panic threatens to wash over her at the thought.

"Can I bandage your arm?" he asks after a long moment, his voice drawing her back to the present.

Oh, shit. She completely forgot about that.

Her heart is still pounding, ribs aching, her whole body shaking, but even through the dissipating panic she can see she's lost a decent amount of blood. And she's certainly in no condition to clean it up herself.

She manages a weak nod.

Castle approaches slowly, and she can't help but feel akin to a caged animal; panicked, flighty, liable to lash out at any moment. She's not actually sure how she's going to react. No one has been present during her previous panic attacks; she even managed to hide them from her dad, though the knowing look in his eyes told her he was aware of what was going on behind closed doors, despite her efforts to conceal it.

Castle crouches in front of her and extends his hands but doesn't touch her. Warily, she takes the one on her non-injured side, keeping her bloody arm pressed against her stomach. He reaches out, loops his other arm around her side for support and together they rise from the floor.

"There's broken glass," he murmurs once she has her footing. She's clinging to his hand tight enough to bruise, but she still feels a little light-headed, her center of balance completely off kilter. "Maybe I should carry you."

She can't find the energy to protest, and he takes her lack of objection as permission, maneuvers her into his arms. She wraps her good arm around his neck, buries her face in his chest. She doesn't want to look at the mess she's made of her living room, definitely can't bring herself to look up at him. His blue eyes are filled with so much pain and it's breaking her already shattered heart.

Castle guides them through her apartment to the bathroom, gently sets her back on her feet. Kate catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, recoils in horror. She looks awful. Her hair is in wild disarray, eyes red, mascara smeared down her cheeks in line with the tracks of her tears. Her arm is still bleeding and a trail of red runs all the way to her elbow. It's all over her shirt, too, and there's even some on her opposite arm.

She hears the sound of running water, turns to see Castle starting the shower. He leaves the water flowing, letting it warm up, and comes to stand in front of her.

"Let's take this off," he says gently, fingering the hem of her shirt. Kate obligingly raises her arms, allows him to tug the garment over her head. Her bra is next, followed by her sweatpants and underwear. He steps around behind her, out of sight, and she's powerless against the violent flinch of her body when she feels his hands in her hair.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

"No, I'm sorry," he says. "Should've given you some warning."

He extends an arm, open palm revealing a hair tie. "May I?"

She nods.

Castle turns them so she's facing the mirror and able to see him behind her. Not that she wants to look at herself in the mirror right now. Instead, she focuses on the feel of his fingernails on her scalp, scratching gently as he gathers up her hair and secures the curls into a ponytail, flipping the ends under to keep it up off her neck.

He undresses himself next, then offers her a hand. She reaches out mechanically, rests her palm in his; he curls his other arm loosely around her torso and guides her into the shower with him.

Castle adjusts the shower head so he can stand behind it where she can see him, and though she's still anxious that he's here, seeing her like this, she finds herself grateful for the fact that he seems to know exactly what she needs.

"Arm?" he asks softly.

Kate extends the bleeding limb; Castle catches her hand in his own, cradles her elbow with his other hand and gently guides her forearm beneath the spray. It stings and burns as the water hits it, and Kate hisses in pain.

"I know," he murmurs. "But we have to get it cleaned out."

"There might be glass in it," she admits.

"I'll take a look when we get out."

He reaches for the bar of soap, lathers up his hands and carefully cleans her arm, fingers gently working away the dried blood. He removes the blood from her other arm, too, then sets his sights on the rest of her body, working with steadfast determination to wash away any other remnants of the evening.

This is by no means the first shower they've taken together and the circumstances are obviously far from ideal, but somehow this is the most intimate thing they've done.

When he finishes, Castle steps out of the way so she can rinse herself, gestures for her to shut off the water once she's done. He reaches for a towel, drapes it around her shoulders, then turns his focus to drying himself. Kate assumes he means for her to dry herself as well, but she seems to have lost the ability to move.

Castle is unfazed, though, makes quick work of drying her off and handing her a bath robe. She pulls the fluffy fabric around herself, careful to avoid bleeding all over the sleeve. She rolls it up above her elbow, catching a glance of the wound in the mirror as she does so. The worst of the gash has begun to scab over but it's still bleeding slightly.

In the meantime, Castle has donned his boxers and undershirt and retrieved the first aid kit from under her sink. He gently guides her to sit on the closed toilet and kneels in front of her. She extends her arm, and Castle begins the process of examining the cut for any shards of broken glass, removing one small piece with tweezers before dressing the wound with antibiotic ointment and wrapping it with gauze and a bandage.

"Okay?" he asks when he's finished.

She can only manage a nod.

"Why don't you head to bed? I'm going to clean up the living room and then I'll join you." Castle pauses. "Or I can sleep on the couch, if you want."

Kate stares at the floor, silent. What does she want? Thirty minutes ago she didn't want him here at all, but now she can't imagine spending the night by herself. She knows there will be nightmares – there always are after her panic attacks – and she can't decide if she'd rather face them alone or risk him witnessing yet another example of how utterly broken she is.

"Think about it," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead before exiting the bathroom.

Minutes pass before Kate is able to drag herself to her feet. She pushes the door shut and uses the toilet, manages a quick brushing of her teeth. She's still thoroughly shaken but she does feel slightly better now that she's clean.

She hates panic attacks, hates how completely wiped out she feels afterwards. She just wants to curl up and sleep for days, wants to wake up and see that the sniper has been apprehended.

Mostly, she just wants to wake up and be okay again.

* * *

She's curled in bed, a fresh batch of tears stinging her eyes, when Castle appears in the doorway.

"I'll be on the couch," he offers, thumbing over his shoulder.

"Stay," she manages, voice rough. "Please."

He doesn't argue, simply crosses the room and slips into bed next to her, settling into the pillows. Kate curls up against him, bandaged arm resting on his chest, palm splaying over his sternum. The adrenaline is long gone, the panic subsided, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand ushers in the first semblance of calm.

Castle wraps his arms around her, cradling her loosely; allowing her an easy escape if she needs it, and she loves him for it.

Oh, God. She loves him. And he (hopefully still) loves her.

"It came back to you," he says into the silence, as though he's read her mind. "The memory of what happened."

It's not a question.

Kate manages a meager nod against his chest. She doesn't tell him she never forgot. She can't even offer the simplest of words right now – _I'm sorry_ or _thank you_ – let alone an admission of her lie.

Castle palms the back of her head, fingers loosening the hair tie and letting her curls tumble free. He doesn't speak again and neither does she, allowing the silence and exhaustion to take over.

She falls asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm and the feel of his fingers running through her hair

* * *

She doesn't have any nightmares.

In fact, she sleeps through the night, and it's the most restful sleep she's had in a long time.

* * *

They wake to the ringing of her alarm, the sound echoing through the silence of her bedroom. They've shifted positions overnight and Castle is now spooned up behind her, forearm against her sternum and nose buried in the back of her neck.

Normally, nightmares and panic attacks leave her drained and she wakes with puffy eyes and a headache, feeling worse than when she'd gone to bed.

But this morning she feels okay. She's nervous to face the day, nervous to go back to the case; but Castle is here. He stayed with her all night and he'll be by her side all day, and just knowing that he'll have her back is enough to assuage the worst of her anxiety.

He presses his lips against her neck, lingers as he breathes her in. "Morning."

"Morning," she replies.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better."

He hums in approval but doesn't say more.

"Castle," she whispers, rolling over to face him. He loosens his hold while she resituates, wastes no time in drawing her into his chest once she's settled. "Thanks for staying."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be."

Kate snorts, can't help herself. "Right."

But Castle isn't having any of it. He catches her under the chin with two fingers, gently tilts her head up until their gazes meet. "If you remember what happened, then you also know exactly how I feel about you," he says sternly. A wave of heat floods her cheeks and she quickly averts her eyes. "And that means this is exactly where I want to be."

They fall into silence for a long moment before Kate speaks again. "I'm sorry."

Castle cocks his head.

"For being a broken mess," she elaborates. "This probably isn't what you had in mind."

"You're recovering from severe trauma," he says with a shrug. There's no judgement, no pity. He might as well be stating a well-known fact: the sky is blue, today is Thursday. "That takes time. And having panic attacks… that doesn't make you broken. It just makes you human."

She forces herself to meet his eyes but can't manage a reply.

"I have nightmares too, you know," he offers after an extended silence. "From last summer, from the freezer and the bomb and 3XK."

Kate opens her mouth, poised to apologize, but he stops her before she can speak. "Don't," he warns. "Don't apologize. Shadowing you is my choice, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

It's selfish, but she wouldn't either. She can no longer imagine doing her job without Castle by her side.

"My point is, it's normal," he continues. "And I would never judge you or think less of you for it."

* * *

True to his word, there's no judgement in his eyes when he re-dresses and rewraps her arm before they head in to the precinct.

He doesn't treat her any differently once they arrive at the Twelfth.

And when she has a breakdown in the lobby of Grace Point Tower and only narrowly escapes to the stairwell before the tide of panic pulls her under, he's right on her heels, catching her as she slumps to the ground and cradling her trembling body to his chest. He holds her loosely as she rides it out, one hand rubbing circles on her back and the other combing through her hair, all the while murmuring a never-ending string of assurances against her temple.

He holds her until her heart stops pounding and her limbs stop shaking, and when she finally lifts her head from his shoulder she finds him gazing at her tenderly and her heart accelerates for a very different reason.

She's still struggling to comprehend the apparent depths of his love for her, trying to fathom how he's remained so calm and composed through all of this. He's the solid ground she so desperately needs right now.

Kate isn't sure she'll ever understand what she did to deserve this wonderful man.

But never in her life has she been so grateful to have Castle by her side.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you all so much for your continued support! Please know that I read and appreciate every single review, even though I don't usually have time to respond to them._

* * *

 **#12: What if… Castle went for a walk rather than going home after Alexis's graduation?**

* * *

He can't bring himself to go home after the ceremony.

Home is empty. Quiet. Haunted with the shadows of what was supposed to be movie night with Ka… Beckett.

They were _so close_. She'd essentially admitted to lying to him, explained her motivations, promised she was getting better. Promised she was almost ready.

In fact, he's pretty sure she _was_ ready. The smile on her face when she'd accepted his offer for movie night was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and her eyes were twinkling with the promise of more.

How did it all go so wrong so quickly?

Castle sighs heavily. He knows how. There's only one thing that's ever been able to tear them apart so viciously, and it struck again. He understands now, in a way he never has before, why she said she has to solve this case before they can be together. It swallows her whole and doesn't leave room for anything else.

It's why he promised to wait for her in the first place, even before he realized how bad things could become.

And he'd wait forever if he had to, because he loves her more than anything. But he's not willing to wait for someone with so little value for her own life. Someone who is willing to walk straight into the mouth of a dragon and be consumed by the flames.

He admires her tenacity and determination to honor her mother, but he already watched her die once. He can't – won't – do it again.

So instead he finds himself wandering the streets of Manhattan, searching for an escape from the future that had been slowly but surely unfolding before him. The sun has long since set and storm clouds are rolling in; he can hear the occasional rumble of thunder off in the distance, an ominous warning of what's to come, but the sky above seems to be holding out so far.

Castle wanders aimlessly, arriving at a street corner and simply picking a direction, meandering listlessly through the throngs of pedestrians. He doesn't know where he's going, doesn't care, and yet he somehow finds himself at the park.

Their park.

The very place where she'd promised him they'd one day be more.

Castle almost laughs at the cruelty of his subconscious for leading him here.

 _More_ was supposed to be happening right now.

He turns to leave but hesitates. Maybe it's good that he's here. He can take a moment to reminisce and then put it all behind him and move on. He has no clue how to even begin getting over her and leaving this part of his life behind, but he owes it to himself to try.

Mind made up, Castle crosses the grass in a few long, determined strides and sinks down onto the swing.

* * *

She doesn't go home.

She no longer has a car and she feels naked without her badge and gun, but Kate still can't bring herself to go home. Home is scarred with the remnants of their fight.

So she wanders the streets instead, feet tracing paths they know well from her early morning jogs. She has an eventual destination in mind, but first she needs some time to calm down and think. Words have never been her strong point, but they're her only option at this point and she has to get this right.

The first drops of rain fall as she turns the corner, heading in the general direction of Castle's loft. It's just a light sprinkle, but the thunder has been moving steadily closer and she knows a downpour is on the way. With any luck, she'll make it to the loft before the sky opens up.

Kate crosses the street as the light turns to green, finds herself at the edge of a park. But it's not just any park. It's _their_ park. The very place where she promised him she'd one day be ready for more.

The rain is picking up, but Kate ignores it and steps off the sidewalk into the grass. Maybe this is exactly what she needs. A familiar place to gather her thoughts.

She makes her way towards the swings, picking her way through the puddles and shadows, and she's halfway there when she notices the figure seated on the middle swing. It's just an outline in the darkness, but she'd recognize that silhouette from anywhere.

 _Castle._

Kate hesitates. He's facing the other direction so she could leave, pretend she never saw him here and find another place to gather her thoughts. But running away isn't going to solve anything, and it certainly won't help her get him back.

Lightning flashes overhead and in the glow she can see her partner is sitting completely still, head down as the rain washes over him, soaking him to the bone. He looks small, shattered, and it breaks her heart to know she's the reason for it.

She has to fix this. It's now or never.

Kate takes a moment to unstick the drenched strands of hair from her cheek, strides determinedly towards Castle, and sinks down onto an empty swing.

* * *

"You were right."

"Jesus!" Castle startles violently, nearly toppling off the swing. He recovers smoothly, though, cool detachment quickly displacing the surprise in his eyes. "Beckett, what are you doing here?"

"You were right," she repeats, turning to face him despite the sheets of water drenching her hair, her face, her entire body. "They tried to kill me. Almost succeeded, too," she adds when he doesn't react in any way. "The sniper threw me off a roof."

Castle tenses but still studiously keeps his gaze focused straight ahead. "What?"

"Left me hanging there," she explains.

"The sniper left you hanging from a roof?" Castle repeats, though there's little emotion in his voice. It's the same cold, hard façade she's seen far too much of in the last month. The one he uses when he's completely shutting her out.

Kate's eyes slide closed, chin dipping in shame.

"But you caught him?" he assumes when she doesn't answer.

She turns to her partner – ex-partner – but his eyes remain averted. "He got away."

"And you want me to help you chase him down?"

"No."

That finally gets his attention, draws his eyes to her. "No?"

"He got away," Kate repeats. "And I don't care."

Castle snorts derisively. "Right."

"I don't," she insists. "Not anymore. It's not important."

"If you came here to try to convince me the thing you've spent thirteen years working towards is suddenly not important, you're wasting your time," he says flatly. Castle releases his hold on the chains, rises from the swing.

"Rick, please," Kate implores, not even bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. He takes a step, then another, and she practically launches herself off the swings, catches him by the sopping wet coat sleeve.

He jerks his arm from her grasp, whirls around, and the storm swirling in his eyes matches the angry grey skies. "I told you. We're done, Beckett."

"I quit the force," she blurts as he turns to leave, the words pouring out in time with the tears in her eyes that finally spill over the edge, mingling with the raindrops that coat her skin. There's no time for eloquence, no time for a brain-to-mouth filter. He's leaving for good and she can't let that happen.

He stops but doesn't turn. "You what?"

Her reply is drowned out by the rumble of thunder overhead and she has to repeat herself a second time.

"You quit?"

Kate nods, realizes he can't see her. "Yes."

Castle hesitates. She can tell he's still debating just walking away but, fortunately for her, his curiosity gets the best of him. He runs a hand through his rain-drenched hair before allowing his arm to fall, hanging awkwardly by his side. "Why?"

He's still facing away from her, but at least she has his attention.

"I was hanging there as he escaped, and going after him didn't even cross my mind," she begins. "Everyone says your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die, but I didn't see my whole life. I just saw you. And my biggest regret wasn't that I never solved her case. It was you." She risks a hand on his arm; Castle tenses beneath her touch but he doesn't move away. "It was the fact that you'd never know how sorry I am for all the pain I've put you through this last year. And you'd never know that I love you."

"You…" Castle begins, has to clear his throat to dislodge the words. His body still faces away from her but he swivels his head to seek her eyes. "You do?"

She gives his arm a gentle squeeze, offers a tentative smile. "So much, Rick."

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it without a word.

"What?"

Castle runs a hand through his hair again, combing through the strands that are haphazardly plastered against his forehead. It doesn't accomplish much; Kate is sure her hair looks equally disastrous.

"You really quit?" he confirms, turning to face her at last.

Her arm falls away as he moves, comes to rest at her side. "I really did."

"You won't regret this tomorrow once the adrenaline wears off?"

"No," she promises, soft but sure. She's never been so certain of anything in her life. Kate extends her arm again, hand curving around his forearm just below the elbow. "I just want you."

Castle's gaze follows the touch of her hand and when he raises his eyes to hers she can see the vortex of emotion in their depths. Tenderness, confusion, hurt, adoration, hesitance, anger, love.

"I'm so sorry," Kate murmurs, stepping forward and combing her free hand through his hair, tousling the wet bangs that droop over his forehead. He leans into her touch, and for the first time since last night the knot in her stomach begins to uncurl. She trails her fingertips down the line of his jaw, over the ridge of his collarbone, finally coming to rest with her palm over his heart. The heart she's been so careless with in the past. The heart she vows to handle with the utmost care from this moment on. "I'm _so_ sorry, Castle."

Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating what little darkness there is in Manhattan at night. But in the momentary bright white glow, Kate can see his eyes begin to clarify, hurt and anger fading, being replaced with want and determination.

Castle catches her with both hands just as the answering clap of thunder echoes through the city, cradling her jaw as he closes the remainder of the space between them and captures her lips with his own.

The first brush of his tongue against hers sends a jolt of electricity through her entire body, burning as bright as the lightning overhead, and the touch of his palms against her cheek lights a fire that even the cold sheets of rain can't put out. She can hear the blood rushing in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the storm as it rages on around them.

One hand twines into her hair, adjusting the angle of her jaw as he explores her mouth fervently. Kate clings to the back of his jacket, the fabric soaked through, but her grip on him and his on her is the only thing keeping her upright.

She gasps as he breaks from her mouth to trail a line of kisses along her jaw. His teeth scrape against a particularly sensitive area beneath her right ear and her knees buckle. Oh, God. She's losing control already and she can feel against her thigh that he is, too.

"Castle," she pants, attempting to put some space between them even as he chases the skin of her neck with his lips. They need to not do this here. "Take me home."

* * *

They're shivering and soaked to the bone by the time they cross the threshold of the loft, bodies and lips tangled together out of frantic desire.

Castle can't get his jacket unstuck from his shirt, and with every tug his sleeves seem to just become more and more twisted around his forearms. Eventually they tackle the buttons of his shirt together, tugging both garments off in one water-logged wet blob. It falls to the ground with a soggy thwack.

Kate's shirt comes off much more easily than his but her skin is wet and cold to the touch, the rain water having long since soaked all the way through her clothing. They gracelessly tug off their sodden shoes, leaving their wet socks on the floor of the foyer as well. Castle's pants come down fairly easily once she manages to get them unbuttoned but hers are skin tight when they're dry; wet they might as well be a second skin, and it takes a good deal of tugging to pry them off.

Clad only in their underwear, Castle takes her by the hand, leading her through his office to the bedroom, bypassing the beckoning Egyptian cotton and warm comforter and heading straight for the en suite. He wants her in his bed more than anything else in the world, but they're both drenched and thoroughly chilled.

Castle switches on the heat lamp and turns on the shower, rotating the knob all the way to hot. As they wait for the water to heat and steam to fill the room, he turns back to Kate; she's standing before him in a black lacy bra and matching underwear, shyness in her eyes as their gazes meet.

He cocks his head in confusion and concern. "You okay?"

Kate nods, but even as she does one hand subconsciously rises to the center of her chest, and Castle immediately understands her hesitation.

He drops his eyes to the puckered skin and it's only then that he catches a glimpse of a second scar, a vertical line up her left side that disappears beneath the band of her bra. He reaches out with his free hand, traces the path with his index finger. She shivers, and though he knows it's not from the cold, it's enough to break the moment and remind him of why they're standing mostly naked in his bathroom to begin with.

"Kate," he murmurs, drawing her eyes up to his once more.

"Sorry," she says with a shake of her head. "No one has seen them."

Castle catches her hand in his, tugging it away from the remnants of the bullet hole in her chest and cradling it gently in both of his. "Thanks for letting me be the first."

She smiles wanly.

"Now come on," he urges, dropping her hand and reaching for the clasp of her bra. "Let's get warmed up."

* * *

They do.

And not just from the scalding water of the shower.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	13. Chapter 13

_I received four variations of this prompt from four different people. I've reworded it here and removed any plot suggestions for the sake of spoilers. Hopefully this is what everyone had in mind!_

* * *

 **#13: What if… _Tick Tick Tick/Boom_ happened after 4 _7 Seconds/The Limey_?**

 **Prompt by Lal_Athzalar, Anastasia, and two anons**

* * *

He hates her.

He hates her so much.

He's spent most of the last year waiting for her, loving her from afar until she's ready for him to love her the way he so desperately wants to; he'd have waited forever if necessary.

But not anymore. Not now that he knows she lied.

He hates her more than he's ever hated anyone.

Except, he doesn't.

Can't.

He's tried. He's been trying, for the better part of the last two weeks. He shoved his emotions into a box while they finished the Boylan Plaza bombing case, and that didn't work. Then he flew to Vegas and brought back a sexy flight attendant, but that didn't work either.

Jacinda is long gone. It was never supposed to be more than a temporary fling anyway. Fleeting though it was, he still thought it would help. It didn't. Spending time with Jacinda only emphasized all the reasons he's not really interested in random beautiful women anymore.

Now he's moved on to ignoring Beckett's calls and texts. He's spent the last two days at home instead of at the precinct, and still nothing has changed.

He's hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.

Which is the only reason he's on his way into the precinct right now. Ryan called a few minutes ago to fill him in on their latest case, and apparently what began as a creepy phone call has morphed into a killer with a fixation on the real-life version of Nikki Heat who's killed three people so far with engraved bullets proclaiming, "Nikki will burn."

A shiver runs up his spine at the mere thought.

As furious as he is with Beckett, he never wanted to put her in danger.

* * *

When he arrives on the homicide floor, it's immediately evident that this is no ordinary case. Ryan mentioned something about the FBI but Castle wasn't expecting them to have completely taken over the precinct.

He catches up with Ryan and Esposito first and they fill him in on the details Ryan had left out over the phone. Next, he bumps into Jordan Shaw – oh, wow, he never thought he'd have a chance to meet _the_ Jordan Shaw – and it's there that he's standing, wrapped up in conversation about taxidermy and a stuffed dead dog, when Beckett appears.

"Castle?"

He lifts his head, is temporarily struck by the distraught determination written in the lines of her face. "Oh, uh, hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"Ryan called," he answers with a shrug, tries his best to ignore the hurt that washes over her at the realization that he'd taken the other detective's call but ignored hers. "Explained what was happening. I figured no one knows my books like me, right? Maybe I can help."

She doesn't look convinced and he can tell she dislikes his answer, but he reminds himself it doesn't matter. He's not here to fight with her or make up with her or anything in between. He's just here to help catch a psychopath.

* * *

It's only a couple hours later that he finds himself trapped with Beckett in a surveillance van outside the apartment building of one Ben Conrad, their alleged killer. Everything between them is stilted, awkward, and the air feels like it's being weighed down by a hundred elephants.

They used to be able to talk for hours about any and everything. How is it that they suddenly have nothing to say to each other?

Before he can contemplate any further – not that he needs to, he knows exactly why he has nothing to say to her – Beckett's phone rings. It's Ben Conrad.

Castle hops out of the van after her and she puts the phone on speaker as he approaches, follows her line of sight up to where Conrad stands in his apartment window. But the conversation is escalating quickly and before they can do anything to calm the man down, he steps out of sight and the sound of a gunshot echoes through the air.

* * *

Castle is equal parts relieved and confused when he arrives back home mere hours after leaving this morning. Being around her is painful, a constant reminder of all the reasons he loves her in spite of her lie. As angry as he is, he couldn't _not_ notice the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the hollowness around her collarbones, the pain in her eyes every time they were in the same room. The part of him that's in agony reasons that she deserves to feel every ounce of the pain he's suffering. But the part of him that's still in love with her, against every rational justification, feels guilty for hurting her.

At least now that he's home, he can pretend he didn't see the signs of her misery.

But the distance isn't enough to banish her from his thoughts or his heart.

Castle pours himself a glass of scotch, sinks into his desk chair, allowing the darkness of his office to enshroud him. His mother was right. He can't go on like this. He can't keep simultaneously loving her and hating her, but he can't decide which one he wants to give up. It would definitely be easiest to just stop loving her and slowly fade out of her life. He can finish _Frozen Heat_ and start a new series. But deep down, he doesn't want to stop loving her. Loving her has made him a better person, in so many ways, and he's not sure who he'd be without that. Without her.

With a sigh of frustration, Castle knocks back the swig of scotch, relishes the burn as it slides down his throat. A couple more glasses and maybe his brain will calm down.

But despite his attempts to get her off his mind, he can't quite suppress his thoughts on the case. It's over – supposedly – but it just seemed too easy. Granted, he missed out on most of it while he was busy ignoring her calls and having a pity party. Even so, it wrapped up too quickly. Too neatly. Too perfectly.

They're missing something.

He's not sure exactly what triggers the realization, but he's working through everything he can remember from the coroner's reports when it hits him. The initial profile of their killer… he was left handed.

The man they saw in the window was holding the gun in his right hand. Which means either he wasn't Ben Conrad, or Ben Conrad isn't the killer.

 _Nikki will burn_.

"Beckett," Castle utters.

He's in a cab before he even realizes it, promising the driver he'll double the fare if he can get them there as fast as humanly possible. The late hour helps, less traffic than usual, and just a few minutes have passed when Castle tosses the guy a fifty and jumps from the cab.

Thank God her apartment is still intact, but he's not taking any chances. He dials her number as he runs up the block, relieved when she answers. She doesn't sound pleased to hear from him, not at all, but this really isn't the time to dwell on their strained partnership. She needs to get out of there now.

* * *

He's too late.

In the background of the call he hears the same recording they'd found at Conrad's place, and before he can react Beckett's entire apartment explodes, the sound echoing through the city streets as flames erupt from the windows and shards of the building rain down on the street corner.

Pedestrians flee, running and screaming, hands over their heads to shield themselves from the giant, flaming pieces of confetti, while Castle goes against the tide, fighting his way through the panicked throngs and bursting into her building without a second thought. He doesn't care that it's on fire, doesn't care that it might collapse at any moment. Regardless of everything else that's happened recently, he loves her and he just watched her apartment go up in flames around her.

Oh, God, _Kate_.

He body slams the door; it gives way and sends him tumbling into her apartment, his shoulder scorched from the heat of the wood. The whole place has been gutted and, from the looks of it, is seconds from being completely engulfed in flames.

Oh, God. There's no way she survived this.

Castle picks his way through the wreckage in horror, is seconds away from emptying the contents of his stomach when he hears a cough.

"Beckett?"

She coughs again.

"Kate?"

Oh, thank God. She's alive.

Another fit of coughing breaks through the sound of the flames – he had no idea fire was so loud – and he's able to place it as coming from the back of her apartment.

Castle makes his way down what remains of the hallway, finds her in the bathroom, crouched in the bathtub.

"Kate," he gasps, moving aside the remains of her bathroom door and making his way to her. "Oh, you're naked."

"Castle, turn around," she snaps.

"Not really the time for modesty," he points out, swallowing hard at the sight of her exposed back.

She extends an arm backwards, the other remaining firmly crossed over her chest. "Hand me a towel."

Castle glances around the room. Everything is on fire, and they really don't have time to search for a non-flaming article of clothing.

"Here." He removes his jacket, passes it to her and averts his eyes while she slides her arms into the sleeves. "You okay?" he asks as she rises to her feet, long legs completely exposed beneath the hem of his jacket. He swallows hard, suppresses the wave of arousal at seeing her half naked and wearing his clothes. This is _so_ not the time for those kinds of feelings, for so many reasons.

"Fine," she answers, taking his proffered hand and stepping gingerly out of her bathtub. Her hair is dripping wet and water immediately soaks through his sleeve as he drapes an arm around her for support. There's a bloody gash on her forehead, she's cradling one wrist in the opposite hand, and she's limping, so she clearly took a beating from her dive into the bathtub.

A dive that probably saved her life.

"Come on," he urges, kicking aside a piece of debris and guiding her into the hallway. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Kate shakes him off the moment they reach the street. EMS and the fire department are already on scene, and she sees Shaw and Avery pulling up now too, with Ryan, Espo, and Gates not far behind. She wants to figure out what happened, wants to know how Castle made the connection, but before she can do any of those things she finds herself being pulled into an ambulance.

She sits impatiently while the medics work. She can see Castle talking to her team, as well as Shaw and Avery, and she doesn't like being left out of the loop. She needs to know what's going on.

"So, what tipped you off?" Shaw asks, approaching the ambulance just as the medics finish wrapping her wrist.

Kate gestures in the direction of her… partner? Can she still call him that? "It was Castle."

Castle takes his cue, describes his thought process while the others follow along with interest.

"I see why you keep him around," Shaw observes as he finishes his explanation.

Kate catches his eye for a brief moment before glancing away in silence. He ignored her calls, showed up because of Ryan, and disappeared as soon as they'd closed the case without so much as a goodbye. She's clearly failing miserably at keeping him around, and she's still not sure why everything they'd been building towards fell apart so abruptly.

Thankfully, Gates appears just then to inform her that the fire is out and they're free to head up to the apartment.

Kate turns on her heel and walks away without another word. Her entire life just blew up around her. She has neither the time nor the energy to dwell on Castle's inexplicable behavior.

* * *

The place is ashes.

He's spent many hours in her apartment this past year, knows his way around, yet he recognizes very little of what used to be her home. The bedroom seems to be the least damaged, so while Kate works to salvage what personal items she can and Shaw and Gates discuss the remnants of the explosive device, Castle turns a detailed eye to the living room and hallway.

He finds her father's watch not long after she asks about it, pockets it while he decides what to do with it. He could – probably should – just give it back to her. But it's extremely damaged and, irrationally, the _Nikki Heat_ of it all has him feeling a little bit responsible for all of this.

He also knows she probably can't afford to have it repaired. Not when it's so completely broken. But he knows a guy – his watch guy – and he's the best in the city. Fixing this will be a tall order, even for him, but Castle knows Gregorio can do it.

So he hangs onto it, keeps quiet. He'll have it fixed, give it back to her later. Maybe it can be some kind of peace offering.

Or a goodbye present.

He still hasn't decided what to do with the shattered remnants of their partnership.

* * *

Castle doesn't have the chance to contemplate it any further, either, as the FBI reopens the case and the search for their serial killer continues with a renewed sense of urgency.

They seem to be making headway, though, and Castle can't help but be impressed as Beckett chases the guy down and ends up breaking the case wide open. Unfortunately, Agent Shaw is less impressed and Captain Gates, ever a stickler for protocol, is not on their side, either. They're off the case.

"She has jurisdiction, Beckett," Gates argues, loudly enough for Castle to overhear from his place outside the office door. "It's not my call."

"Sir…"

"You need to go home," the captain continues, "get some rest."

"Sir, I don't have a home," Kate states bluntly.

Castle feels his eyes widen in shock. Amidst all the chaos, he hadn't even considered that she has nowhere to go.

"Yes, you do," he offers, stepping into Gates' office and extending the offer before he can think better of it.

Kate whirls around. "What?"

"My loft," Castle explains. "It's a secure building with an extra bedroom."

"No," she answers without contemplation. "I'm not staying with you."

"As much as I'm loath to say this, Detective, Mr. Castle is right," Gates states. "The FBI already has a detail on the building, and…"

"Sir…"

Gates holds up a hand, effectively putting an end to the conversation. "Consider it an order."

Kate turns to Castle, eyes narrowed in disapproval and anger, and he finds himself already regretting the offer. He wants her to be safe, but inviting her into his home while things between them are such an utter disaster…

What was he thinking?

* * *

The drive to the loft is one of the most uncomfortable things Kate has ever experienced. Castle sits in the passenger seat with his eyes fixed out the side window. It's been a long time since he's sat next to her and not thrown any subtle – or not-so-subtle – glances in her direction. She's still not sure what's prompted this about-face, but it certainly reinforces the heartbreaking fact that he's fallen out of love with her.

The ride up the elevator is likewise silent and strained, and as they step into the loft, Kate feels completely out of place. She's spent so much time here in the past few months that it's begun to feel like a second home, but now she feels like an intruder.

It's clear Castle doesn't want her here.

Kate shuts and locks the door behind them, glances around the loft. "Where's your flight attendant girlfriend?" she questions against her better judgement, unable to hide the derision in her voice.

"She was never my girlfriend," he retorts, tossing his jacket on the sofa. "And she went back to work."

Kate looks down, busies herself with a hangnail. "Oh."

"Why does it matter?"

"It… doesn't," she hedges, eyes still focused on her hands. "I just didn't want to interrupt your evening plans."

"Right."

She hesitates, still standing awkwardly in the foyer.

Castle gestures up the stairs as he heads off in the direction of his office. "You know where the guest room is. Help yourself to whatever you need."

"Why are you doing this?" she blurts, the words barreling right past her brain-to-mouth filter before she can stop them.

"Doing what?" he asks, pausing but not turning.

She motions aimlessly in the direction of the living room, though he can't see her. "This. Inviting me to stay with you."

He shrugs absently. "You know why."

Kate crosses her arms over her chest. "Not anymore I don't."

Castle whirls around, anger painted all over his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

She dips her chin, runs a hand through her hair as she contemplates how to answer. But, well… she might as well go for broke. It's not like she has anything left to lose at this point.

"You loved me," she says, the words sounding so foreign on her tongue. She's only ever spoken of this to Burke, and never before has it been in past tense. "But clearly you don't feel that way anymore."

"And clearly you never did," Castle mutters under his breath.

She jerks her head up. "What?"

"I said, at least I was honest about my feelings," he repeats, though she can tell from the number of syllables that it's not what he said before.

Kate crosses her arms again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You remembered, Beckett," he snaps, and she's not sure if his tone or his use of her last name is harsher. "You remembered, and you lied about it. I can take a hint. You clearly don't feel the same."

"I don't feel the..." Kate trails off, takes a moment to catch her breath, calm the anger coursing through her veins. " _That's_ your assumption?"

Castle opens his mouth to speak but no words come out so she barrels on.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe I had another reason for not telling you?"

"I…" Castle hesitates, and that's the only answer she really needs. "No," he admits eventually, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

Kate turns away, takes a moment to gather her thoughts. Communication has never been their thing, and she's starting to understand why Burke has been urging her to work on this aspect of her life. Clearly she's not good at it. Neither of them are. And now it's brought them here.

"Why?" Castle asks after a long moment.

She turns back to face him. "What?"

He clears his throat, speaks with more emphasis this time. "You said you had another reason," he clarifies, "so what was it?"

Kate inhales deeply, steels herself. She's rationalized this to Burke, rationalized it to herself hundreds of times, but it suddenly seems so inadequate.

"Everything hurt," she begins, one hand automatically rising to curl in front of her sternum. "It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. I just... needed to pretend none of it ever happened while I recovered."

"And the last nine months?" he challenges.

"I wasn't completely recovered," she confesses. "But I've been working on it. I was almost there and then…" she raises her other hand, gestures at nothing in particular, "all of this happened."

Castle averts his eyes, at least having the decency to look ashamed.

"How did you figure it out?" she asks, suddenly curious.

Castle sinks down onto the arm of the sofa, braces his hands on his knees. "You admitted it."

Kate cocks her head in confusion, second arm joining the first in front of her chest. "I did?"

"When you were interrogating a suspect during the bombing case."

She furrows her brow, calling forth the memories.

"The pickpocket," he offers.

Right. She remembers that interrogation. Remembers the kid's claims of amnesia, remembers how she rehashed her own traumatic experience in an attempt to get a confession. She didn't realize…

"You were behind the glass?"

He nods, and Kate's heart sinks. She always intended to tell him the truth eventually, but for him to find out like that…

"I'm so sorry, Castle," she murmurs.

She feels awful. Part of her is still annoyed with him for behaving the way he did in the aftermath, but she certainly has a better understanding now of his sudden change of heart, of the role she unknowingly played in all of this.

"I'm sorry too," he offers, dropping his arms to his sides. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.

Kate presses her lips together, nods in agreement.

"So, what now?" Castle asks after an extended moment.

She leans back against the front door, shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know."

Neither speaks for a long while, and it's Castle who breaks the silence again a minute later.

"If it wasn't because you _didn't_ feel the same, does that mean…" he trails off, and Kate can see the tentative hope sparking in his eyes for the first time in weeks. She feels the same hope blossoming in her chest now that they've begun to move past this unfortunate misunderstanding.

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth shyly, averts her eyes. This has been essentially inevitable for longer than she cares to admit, but saying it aloud will make it real, and her heart is pounding a nervous rhythm in her chest at the prospect of finally taking the leap.

"Yes," she says softly, her mouth suddenly dry and her voice caught in her throat.

Castle pushes off the arm of the sofa with the back of his thighs, slowly approaches. He looks optimistic but still a little wary as she raises her gaze to his, feigning more confidence than she feels.

"Really?" he asks, coming to a stop in front of her, close enough to touch yet still so far away. His hands are shoved in his pockets again so she doesn't reach for him.

"Really, Castle," Kate answers, feeling the corners of her lips tug upward of their own volition despite the nervous anticipation thrumming in her veins.

He answers with a smile of his own, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"You're not still mad?" she asks, regarding him curiously as he gazes down at her. She'd gotten so used to seeing the love in his eyes when he looked at her, felt a stab of pain every time their eyes met recently and it was missing; for the first time in weeks she can see it making an appearance again. It's subdued, but it's there.

"I wish you hadn't lied," he admits. "But I understand your reasoning."

"I'm really sorry," she offers again.

"I know."

"I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know that too," Castle promises.

"I just wanted to be better before anything happened between us," she confesses, eyes slipping closed. "I didn't want to screw it up." She laughs self-deprecatingly. "Turns out I did anyway."

"What matters is that we're here now," Castle murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear and she automatically leans into his touch. He doesn't drop his hand, instead cradling her cheek in the soft warmth of his palm.

Kate lifts her eyes, finds him gazing at her adoringly. Her gaze flicks to his lips of its own volition and by the time she forces her eyes back up, _his_ are now fixed on _her_ mouth. The smile has fallen from his face, replaced with a look of anticipation and determination.

She knows that look.

It's the same one he wore in a darkened alley over a year ago, just before he kissed her for the first time.

She leans in and he raises his other hand to her jaw as well, cradling her tenderly as he presses his lips to hers. She'd straightened from her resting spot against the door when he first approached but he presses her back against it now as he takes a half step closer and deepens the kiss. Kate clutches at his forearms for balance, feels her knees weakening as his tongue tangles with hers for the first time in far too long.

Oh, God.

It feels like their first kiss all over again, except this time she doesn't have to pretend it's not real.

This time, she doesn't have to convince herself she doesn't want him.

And this time, they don't have to stop.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	14. Chapter 14

_The timeline of Castle's previous marriages has never made any sense, so for the sake of this one-shot we're just going to pretend he was single when Kate was a patrol officer... let's say 2006ish._

* * *

 **#14: What if… when Castle steals the police horse, Kate is the arresting officer?**

Sometimes she wonders why she decided to become a cop.

Well, that's not entirely true. She knows why. She has a case to solve, justice to find for her mother since the other cops failed her.

But working her way up to homicide is a long, difficult task. She's in her fourth year as a uniformed officer, and while some of her colleagues got called to the scene of a murder earlier this morning, she wasn't one of them. Royce told her not to take it personally, even bought her lunch in an attempt to cheer her up, but it didn't exactly work. She'd so much rather be knocking on doors or canvassing a crime scene.

Her radio crackles to life then, reports of a disturbance in a park. Dispatch relays the address, calls for nearby officers to respond to the scene. It's only a block away; she supposes she should go.

Kate reaches for her radio, tosses a glance towards the back of the diner. Royce went to the restroom just a moment ago and she really shouldn't leave without him but someone could be in trouble. She doesn't have time to wait. She depresses the button on her radio, already rising from the table as she calls in. Presumably Royce will hear it and know where to find her.

Kate exits the restaurant, swipes a hand over her forehead. It's only May, but already the oppressive heat of a New York summer has begun to settle over Manhattan. She peels a couple pieces of hair from her neck, attempts to tuck them back into her bun, but it's no use. The humidity has rendered her hair a frizzy, uncooperative mess.

Yet another advantage to making homicide: she won't have to wear a uniform when it's 90 degrees outside.

She turns the corner, jogs up the block, expertly weaving her way through the throngs of pedestrians. She has no idea what she's about to walk into; dispatch wasn't very specific.

Kate slows to a stop as she approaches, eyes already surveying the scene. There's a large group of people in the center of the park, one man rising quite a distance above all the others. Is he on someone's shoulders?

No, wait.

There's a horse. He's on a horse. And not just any horse. He's riding a police horse, though he's very clearly not a cop.

He's also very clearly naked.

Kate huffs a sigh as she steps off the sidewalk and into the park, makes her way towards the cacophony. Quite a few passersby have gathered, most cheering for the man and his antics. A couple are even capturing the entire thing on camera.

Great. Just what the world needs is another video of a drunken idiot.

She announces her presence as she approaches the scene, calling for people to clear the way, to take a few steps back. She's nearing the front of the crowd when the man turns his head toward her, and Kate nearly trips over her own feet in surprise.

She knows that face. She's seen it a hundred times. It's on the back of an entire collection of novels that line her bookshelves at home. It's also the face of a man she met three years ago after standing in line for two hours waiting for him to sign her copy of _Storm Warning_.

Kate groans. This must be why they say 'never meet your idols.'

Granted she's met him before, but just for a minute as he greeted her, asked her name, and signed her book. And he's certainly not her idol. She knows he has priors, has heard the rumors and seen the tabloid gossip. Not that she gullible enough to believe that drivel. But she still gets the impression that he's somewhat of an immature, rich, asshole.

Apparently she needs to add 'naked police horse thief' to the list.

Two other cops have now approached the scene from the other direction; one is working on crowd control and the second – presumably the one to whom the horse belongs – is calmly talking to the large equine as he steps up and takes the reins. Kate is grateful for his knowledge of horses, something she completely lacks.

The naked author clearly knows nothing about horses either. He's sitting in the saddle backwards and he isn't holding on to anything.

Kate holds up her badge as she addresses him in her most authoritative voice. "NYPD, sir, please dismount the horse."

Richard Castle looks around in confusion, apparently only now realizing how far off the ground he is. She finds herself wondering how he even got up there.

"Swing your left leg over," the officer holding the reins instructs.

The author attempts to do so, loses his balance and very nearly comes tumbling to the ground before managing to right himself. Kate rolls her eyes. She can see the other officer is fighting the urge to do the same.

It's a very graceless process but Castle eventually manages to remove himself from the horse without injury. He appears to be completely confident in his body as he dismounts, everything hanging out for the world to see as he lands on his feet in front of her with a look of pride on his face.

"Ta-da," he announces, throwing both hands into the air like a gymnast who just stuck a landing.

Kate is trying to maintain her professionalism despite his nudity and antics, but she can't help but sneak a peek and… well. A smattering of hair trails a downward path from his belly button and the faint outline of his obliques – muscles she wouldn't necessarily expect to see on an author – tapers into a vee in his lower abdomen. Her eyes continue their descending trajectory and she swallows hard.

He's… very well endowed.

She has to force herself to look away; when she raises her eyes, he's looking at her with a quirked eyebrow and an infuriating smirk and she knows she's been caught.

"Officer," he greets with a sexy smirk. "What's brought you here on this fine afternoon?"

"Mr. Castle," she begins.

"Ah, a fan," he enthuses. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan."

"I've seen your photo before," she deflects, putting an abrupt end to this line of conversation.

Can he tell she's lying? She hopes not. She needs to develop a solid poker face if she's going to make detective next year.

"Of course."

The officer who's been managing the horse through all of this – Jacobs, she sees now on his name badge – has removed the blanket from beneath the saddle and tosses it in her direction. She catches it and extends it to the naked author. "Please cover yourself up."

"But it's so warm and sunny," he protests.

Kate narrows her eyes and he untangles the blanket, wraps it around himself like a towel.

"Turn around, please," she commands once the blanket is secure.

"You're arresting me?"

She secures her badge, reaches for her handcuffs. "You're naked and you stole a police horse, so yes."

"I wasn't stealing," he clarifies. "I was borrowing."

"Fine, you're naked and you were riding a police horse," she rephrases.

Castle shrugs. "He looked lonely."

"Turn around, Mr. Castle."

He complies with a dramatic sigh, allowing her to cuff his hands behind his back. She guides him with a firm grip on his bicep once the cuffs are secure, nudging him out of the park. "Let's go."

The third officer clears a path through the crowd and Kate guides the author across the grass. Royce is waiting for her at the curb with their cruiser, having clearly followed the emerging situation on his radio. He opens the rear passenger door, steps aside as Kate pushes the blanket-clad man in by the top of his head.

"Isn't that the author you like so much?" her training officer asks once the door is closed.

"Used to like," Kate emphasizes. "Turns out he's an immature asshole."

* * *

He's also a terribly annoying passenger. Castle spends the ride with his face pressed against the partition, apparently fascinated with the inside of the police car. Kate resolutely ignores him, keeping her eyes facing forward as Royce drives them back to the Twelfth.

The author practically bounces out of the car as they arrive back at the station; she's never seen someone who seems to find so much joy in being arrested.

"You know, most smart, good looking women become lawyers," he observes as they enter the station, Kate's hand firmly gripping his arm. "So what made you become a cop?"

"You do realize you're being arrested," she answers flatly.

"I'm a novelist," he replies, shrugging as best he can with his arms cuffed behind his back. "Every experience is potential research for a future book."

"Do all the research you want, I'm not going to be one of your subjects," she retorts.

"Oh, come on," he pleads as they enter the elevator. "You're young, hot, and feisty. You'd make the perfect character for my next Derrick Storm novel."

Kate depresses the button for the second floor far more forcefully than necessary. "Absolutely not."

"You know, you should really let your hair down every once in a while, have some fun."

She's not even going to justify that one with a response.

* * *

Kate is about to begin drawing up the paperwork for Richard Castle's arrest when Captain Montgomery calls her into his office, informing her that the charges are being dropped on order of the Mayor.

Castle himself appears in the doorway a moment later, now fully clothed and sporting that same irritating smirk she'd seen earlier. "Captain," he greets before turning to Kate. "Officer Beckett. Thanks for the hospitality."

She nods stiffly, scarcely managing to conceal her frustration. This type of privileged behavior is precisely why she doesn't care for celebrities.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, tossing a wink in her direction and whistling happily on his way out of the bullpen. Kate leaves as well following Montgomery's dismissal, forces herself to banish the thoughts of a certain naked author from her mind as she goes about the rest of her day.

She's almost successfully repressed the image – almost – when she notices the yellow sticky note in her mailbox as she's headed down to the locker room at the end of her shift. She lifts the square of paper, finds herself overcome with a wave of irritation.

The smug son of a bitch left her his number.

* * *

"Officer Beckett!"

Kate turns at the call of her name as she's exiting the precinct two days later. The voice is vaguely familiar and she narrowly bites back a groan but can't stop the roll of her eyes when she sees who it is.

"Mr. Castle," she greets brusquely. The man in question is leaning casually against the edge of the building, donning blue jeans and a plaid shirt that nicely brings out the bright cornflower blue of his eyes. And when exactly did she start paying attention to the color of his eyes?

He regards her curiously. "You look different out of uniform."

Kate shrugs. "I suppose."

"You're gorgeous."

"I, uh…" she stammers, fighting to calm the butterflies that take flight in her stomach while also attempting to find the words – any words – to reply. She tilts her head slightly to the left, furrows her brow. "Thanks?"

"I mean it," the author states easily, pushing off the wall and sauntering towards her. There's a layer of stubble peppering his jaw, just as there'd been when she arrested him and, damn it, he looks _good._ "Especially your eyes."

She swallows hard, resolutely ignoring his half smile and hopeful gaze. She won't be seduced by his flattery.

"What are you doing here?" she finally manages, hoping her voice belies the impact his words, his presence are having on her. He's come to a stop in front of her, close enough that she can smell his cologne. Too close. He's rapidly eradicating all of her defenses, and this is not good.

"You didn't call."

Kate crosses her arms over her chest. "I wasn't planning to."

"So you don't want to go out with me?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets, and she can see what appears to be disappointment in his eyes. He looks like a kicked puppy.

But no. She's not giving in to this. There's a reason she didn't call him. Many reasons, in fact. He's famous. He's immature. He's irritating. He's shallow. He's just looking for a one-night stand.

Not to mention the fact that…

"Why would I go out with a man I arrested three days ago?"

"Because you liked what you saw?" he suggests with confidence and a sexy waggle of his eyebrows.

"What I _saw,_ " Kate retorts, steadfastly ignoring the memory of her favorite author in the nude, "was a naked man breaking the law and then using his fame to get the charges dropped. Again."

"Ah, perused my rap sheet, did you?"

"I arrested you, so, obviously," she states flatly. "And I don't know why you think _that_ will win you my approval. Have you forgotten that I'm a cop?"

"Well then what will?" he asks, all traces of smugness gone. "Because I'd really like to take you to dinner."

She finds her words trapped in her throat, caught off guard by this sudden switch to sincerity. Richard Castle is… confusing. And exhausting in his ability to ricochet between immature, overconfident celebrity and seemingly earnest human.

"Why?" she asks instead, buying herself time to rebuild her resolve and formulate an answer that will – in no uncertain terms – make it clear that she's not interested. "You're a bestselling author, you could have any woman you want."

"Because I find you fascinating," Castle states. "And I want to know your story."

"If you're here to convince me to share my life story as fodder for your next book, you're wasting your time."

"Well then can we at least share dinner?"

The man is persistent, she'll give him that. And strangely genuine when he's not flaunting his wealth and plastering on the charm.

Kate huffs a sigh of annoyance, but before she can reject him flat out a voice in the back of her head makes itself known. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Lanie when it asks her if dinner with her favorite author would really be so bad.

She hesitates. She's catching glimpses of a softer, more authentic man behind the famous author façade and she _is_ curious. Maybe she's not the only one with something to hide.

"Fine," she relents, possibly against her better judgement. "You can take me to dinner."

The excitement in his eyes _almost_ convinces her she's making the right decision.

* * *

It's just dinner, she reminds herself later that evening as she slips into a bright red dress that's long enough to be decent but short enough to expose the sculpted lines of her legs. She doesn't often have the chance to dress up, and he did call her gorgeous, so she might maybe be hoping to drive him crazy and make him want her even more than he so obviously already does.

Her hair is down and curled, her eyes dark and smoky. She applies a layer of shimmering lip gloss, slips into her heels and picks up her clutch just in time to hear a knock at the door. Kate pauses for a final look in the mirror, takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

It's just dinner, she reminds herself. She's not telling him her story. He doesn't get to know about her mother.

And she's definitely not sleeping with him.

* * *

Castle's jaw drops when she opens the door, and she'd call him out for ogling her if she wasn't doing the same to him. The stubble is gone, and he's wearing a blue button down beneath a black sport coat and a pair of dark jeans.

"Wow," he utters, finally managing to drag his eyes up to her face and swallowing hard. Kate watches it ripple down his throat, finds herself wondering what it would feel like to press her lips to his freshly-shaven skin.

Crap.

The evening has barely begun and she can already feel her resolve crumbling to pieces.

"Are you, uh, ready?" he stammers, and is he really that far off his game already? Oh, this is going to be fun.

"Let's go," she manages around the accelerating beat of her heart and the sudden lack of air in her lungs. She really needs to get a grip.

Castle extends an elbow and Kate takes it automatically, stepping into the hallway and locking the door behind her. He stands close to her in the elevator, one hand rising to rest against the small of her back as he guides her out of the lift and out to the sidewalk. He opens the car door, holds the door of the restaurant, and – for the most part – spends the evening behaving like a perfect gentleman, even if the heat in his eyes spells out all the ungentlemanly things he'd like to do to her.

And despite her initial hesitance and steadfast determination that she was absolutely _not_ going to go out with him, Kate winds up having a wonderful time. They talk, they laugh, and after a couple glasses of wine she feels herself opening up enough to answer his enthusiastic inquiries about her job. He asks surprisingly thoughtful questions, has a keen instinct for the details, and she's beginning to see why he's such a talented writer.

By the end of their meal, it's also become clear that there's much more to Richard Castle than what he portrays to the public eye. Here in a more private setting he's intelligent, eloquent, candid, a proud father, and she even catches the occasional hint of insecurity. It makes him much more relatable. More likeable.

It makes her willing to share things she wouldn't normally disclose on a first date.

It's also making her determination not to sleep with him much more difficult to maintain.

* * *

She doesn't tell him about her mother.

They do, however, end up in her bed.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	15. Chapter 15

_This wasn't the prompt I was planning to write next. In fact, this wasn't a prompt I was planning to write at all, until I woke up with the idea in my head a couple days ago and then it kind of just started writing itself._

 _For the sake of this fic, we're going to pretend one of the balconies was directly below Kate as she's hanging off the roof._

* * *

 **#15: What if... Ryan didn't arrive to the rooftop in time in** ** _Always_** **and Kate fell onto a balcony below?**

* * *

It's bright.

Too bright.

Kate blinks furiously, feels a harsh ache behind her eyes and a throbbing in her temples. She's also oddly aware of her head.

As she takes stock of the rest of her body, she quickly realizes that, whatever happened, she has some pretty nasty injuries. Her shoulders feel like they've been ripped from their sockets. The muscles in her back are knotted and tight. Her hands feel hot. And her entire left leg hurts. Badly.

She can just barely make out the fact that it's elevated at the end of the bed and heavily wrapped.

She's obviously in a hospital. Again.

Kate turns her head slowly to the left, finds Castle sitting stiffly in a hard plastic chair. Their eyes meet but he looks pained, distant.

"Hey," she croaks, voice rough.

"You're awake," he states, but there's no emotion in his words. No sense of relief. This isn't the Castle she knows and loves. After recent events, she's no longer unwilling to admit that latter portion to herself.

"What happened?"

"You fell off a roof," he recites. It's rote and robotic. As though he's simply listing off the items on a grocery list. "Landed on a balcony about 15 feet below."

Right. It's coming back to her now. Maddox throwing her around like a rag doll and tossing her over the edge. Her hands losing their grip, scraping against the concrete edge. That explains why her palms and fingers feel like they're on fire.

"I hit my head?" She guesses.

"You have a concussion," he confirms. "You also dislocated your knee and your ankle is shattered. They put your knee back in place but your ankle needs surgery."

Kate tries to nod but her coordination doesn't seem to work and her head feels like it's filled with rocks.

There's something else, too, but she can't quite make sense of her thoughts. Something about Castle. He's…

"You're here," she blurts suddenly, winces at the sound of her voice.

Everything is muddled, but she remembers they had a fight. She remembers his declaration of love. She remembers him leaving and not coming back. She remembers the devastation of what she thought were her final moments, the regret that she'd never worked up the courage to tell him how she really felt. The regret that now he'd never know, and his final memories of her would be filled with anger and heartbreak.

He shrugs absently. "Ryan called." She wants to say more, but before she can he's rising, pressing a call button, effectively dismissing her desired line of conversation. "I should get your nurse."

* * *

He doesn't get the rest of the story until later, when Ryan arrives looking pale and haunted. Castle steps out of the room, leaving them to talk, and he's still in the hallway when Esposito arrives. The Hispanic detective looks furious, and when he sees Ryan in the room with Kate he abruptly stops to wait outside.

It's only then that Castle is able to fill in the details of what happened: that Kate and Espo went rogue, chased Maddox onto a roof and were overpowered. That Espo and Ryan fought, a dispute that was only made worse by Ryan's decision to loop Gates into what was happening.

How Ryan arrived on the rooftop a split second too late, his hand missing Kate's by inches as she tumbled onto the balcony below.

No wonder he looked so stricken.

And then Espo tells him that he and Kate have been suspended. Castle cringes. He doesn't envy whoever has to be the one to deliver that news.

* * *

It goes over better than he thought it would, though he's not convinced Kate fully understands her plight.

"What about Maddox?" he asks much later, after the others have gone and she broaches the topic of her suspension.

"Doesn't matter."

"What?" He's so confused by this version of Kate, the one who isn't upset to be suspended from her job. The one whose priorities seem to have taken an abrupt shift.

"I pushed you away," she confesses. "I almost died. Again. I was hanging there, about to fall, and the only thing that mattered was you. My only regret was how I'd treated you. I love you, Castle, but all I've done is hurt you, and I'm so, so sorry."

"I..." he begins, but all the words he could possibly say are stuck in his throat and his brain is suddenly going a million miles an hour.

She loves him?

In his most optimistic moments during the past nine months, he's dared to hope, to believe exactly that. Her smiles and the sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him made it seem possible that his feelings were reciprocated. But after the tumult of the last six weeks, he can't quite find that hope. It was starting to come back after the zombie case, after making plans for a movie night that he hoped would be more than just a movie night, but it was still tentative.

After all, her actions haven't exactly spelled love, even when her smiles and eyes possibly did.

"I completely understand if you're done with me," she says in a fractured voice, and in that moment she looks and sounds so small and vulnerable and he feels the façade he's erected between them begin to crumble ever so slightly. "But if there's anything left for us, anything at all, _please_ don't walk away. I just…" the tears spill over the edge then and her voice breaks around the words, "I love you."

The silence stretches as he searches for something – anything – to say in response, but he's completely coming up empty. It's not the first time she's rendered him speechless, but it's the first time in a while, and he's far too discombobulated to formulate any kind of a response to her unexpected confession.

"Castle?"

She's gazing at him but her eyes are dull and she looks completely gutted. He supposes he can relate. He knows exactly how it feels to declare your love for someone and not have them confess theirs in return.

"You should rest," he says, feels his heart clench as he watches his blatant change of subject wash over her face. It's the second time he's blown her off today but he can't handle anything more than simple, impersonal conversation at this point. "You're heavily medicated and you need to take it easy."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

He hesitates and he knows she notices. "I have to go home but I'll be back."

Neutral. Open-ended. It's the most he can offer right now.

She indicates her assent, but he can see that it's not okay at all, and watching the pain cloud her eyes shatters what's left of his heart.

He's so utterly broken and he's not even sure how to begin putting himself back together again.

* * *

Castle leaves a few minutes later when she falls asleep. He needs some space, needs time to think. Needs time to make sense of their conversation and her declarations. He's not sure what to make of it. Will she even remember this when she wakes up again? And if she does, will she pretend to have forgotten?

What if she didn't mean it? Or she regrets having said it? What if it was just heat of the moment, remnants of the adrenaline that was no doubt coursing through her body during her fight with Maddox?

What if she _did_ mean it and she _does_ remember?

He's still hurt and angry from their fight, brokenhearted from her dismissal of his declaration of love last night in her apartment. He's still in pieces from Ryan's phone call, from hearing the detective's panicked voice as he informed him that Kate fell off a roof and was unconscious and being rushed to the hospital.

But most of all, he's wary. He loves her; despite his anger, despite his decision to walk away, that hasn't changed. He loves her more than he's ever loved anyone. But she's broken his heart so many times, and he's not ready to trust her again.

He's not sure his heart can survive another fall without shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces.

He knows they need to talk – even though that's never how they've done things – but he's not sure he's strong enough to handle this conversation right now, no matter what the possible outcome may be.

* * *

The nurses wake her a short time later; apparently she better get used to it because this is what her sleep schedule will look like until her brain recovers.

Kate just wants to sleep until it's over, waking only when she can get out of bed and walk, when she can drive to the loft and knock on Castle's door and throw her arms around him and never let go.

She's not sure that's ever going to happen, though. Not after his earlier dismissal of her confession. Twice.

Her heart twists at the memory. She finally said it. She finally uttered the words she's been holding in for so long. And he didn't say it back.

Last night in her apartment – although, actually, she has no idea what day or time it is anymore – he said he loved her. There's no way that's changed in this short time, right? He's loved her for close to a year – in retrospect, she suspects it's been even longer than that – and she's certain it's still in there somewhere. She just needs to coax it back to the surface. She didn't almost fall to her death and subsequently decide to walk away from her mother's case only to lose him anyway.

She's just not entirely sure how to win him back.

* * *

After her next sleep and wake cycle, she learns that it will be a few days before she's able to go under anesthesia for ankle surgery. Something about a concussion and the dangers of being put under while her brain is still recovering. Even so, she'll need to stay in the hospital overnight for observation. She hit her head pretty hard; the doctor tells her she's lucky she doesn't have a more serious head injury.

But her scans come back okay – apparently, she's a little fuzzy on the details. She's a little fuzzy on everything, actually. Except for the fact that Castle left and hasn't yet returned.

* * *

He shows up at the door to her room the following morning, greets her with a tight smile that doesn't quite make it to his eyes. But at least he's smiling at her again.

"Hey," she replies, offering her own smile that quickly falls into a grimace around the throbbing pain in her head.

Castle sinks into the chair next to her bed, and the familiarity of having him seated beside her evokes a ray of hope. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," she admits. "But that's my own fault. I should've listened to you. I shouldn't have kept going."

He shrugs. "It's who you are."

"Well it's not who I want to be," she replies harshly, surprising herself with the fierceness of her words. The hollow, impersonal responses are worse than anger and she feels it slicing through her chest, threatening to split her heart in two. She wants him to be mad, sad, upset, anything other than this flat emptiness. She wants him to fight her, call her out, wants proof that she can still elicit some type of emotion from him.

"I'm not going back to the case," she offers when he doesn't respond. "I'm not even sure I'm going back to the Twelfth."

That confession is apparently enough to snag his attention. "What?"

"I don't know," she repeats. "Between being suspended and my ankle, I won't be going back for a couple months anyway. But I'm not even sure I want to."

"What would you do?"

She shrugs, winces when the movement jostles her head. "No idea."

He hums a response, either agreement or disbelief.

"If I do go back, will you come with me?"

From the wide, frantic look in his eyes, she's caught him by surprise again. "I guess it depends."

"Right," she answers, completely unconvinced.

Two nurses appear then and their conversation is put on hold. Kate half expects Castle to get up and leave. He doesn't look quite as miserable as he did before but he's clearly still not happy to see her. She placates herself with the thought that he showed up at all, but it's not exactly consolation.

But Castle stays in the chair near her bed as the nurses check her vitals and her memory. He's still there as they begin discussing her discharge plans, asking if she has someone to stay with while she recovers from the concussion and a way to get home and then back to the hospital in a few days for her ankle surgery.

Kate hesitates. She could ask her dad, but she doesn't want to put this burden on him again. He nursed her back from the brink of death last summer. He doesn't need to know how close she came to dying again. She's grateful he's currently upstate at his cabin, out of cell service and completely in the dark regarding the present situation.

She could ask Lanie. She's not looking forward to the inevitable barrage of questions about her disaster of a partnership with Castle. But Lanie is probably her best option.

But before Kate can answer, Castle is speaking up, catching her completely by surprise.

"She can stay with me."

* * *

Castle has no idea what possesses him to offer to let Kate recover at the loft, but once the words are out he's not going to take them back. He knows he wouldn't have said them if some small part of him didn't agree with the idea of having her in his home. Beneath all the pain, he still loves her. He wants her to be okay again, wants to _help_ her through this. He wants to care for her, wants to love her without having to conceal it like some forbidden secret.

He just wants to be with her, and after her words yesterday and today he thinks she wants that too. He's not naïve enough to believe that their problems will be magically solved by bringing her home with him. They have a lot to work through. And he's not completely ready to trust her again. But she spilled her heart across the floor yesterday with tears in her eyes, and he believes her. He had his doubts at the time, but he's had a lot of time to think, and he's come to the conclusion that she meant what she said.

Kate doesn't share her heart with just anyone and he knows what it must have cost her to open herself up to him, especially when he's completely closed himself off.

Maybe he's an idiot or maybe he's irrationally optimistic. Maybe he's making a giant mistake by giving her the benefit of the doubt yet again.

Or maybe, with Kate Beckett, seventeenth time is the charm.

* * *

"You're sure about this?" she asks him when they're alone again.

"No," Castle answers straightforwardly, looking up from the pile of instructions in his hand. "I'm not."

"I can stay with Lanie."

"Is that what you want?"

"I want to stop being the source of your misery," Kate answers. "If that means staying somewhere else, then that's what I'll do."

She's trying. She's trying so hard to be a better version of herself. To be better for him. She has a tendency to be selfish, a trait borne out of self-preservation after her mother's death. It's one of the many things she's come to realize through her sessions with Burke.

It's a hard thing to change, but she's been working on it.

"I'm not miserable," Castle admits.

"You're not happy."

"No," he agrees.

"Do you think you can be?" Kate asks hesitantly. "We can be?"

"I'd like to believe that's still a possibility."

She smiles, can't help the spread of her lips at the tentative return of his optimism. He doesn't smile back – apparently he's not feeling _that_ optimistic – but even that can't dampen her buoyed spirits.

"Me too."

* * *

She doesn't want him to see her like this, doesn't want to be reliant on someone else even though she knows she needs it. But she also doesn't want to upend their shaky truce.

So she bites her tongue and expends what little brain power she has fighting every urge to not let Castle take care of her. He says he wants her here, says he wants to take care of her, so for the first time in her life, Kate lets him.

He brings her food, beverages, and painkillers. He covers her with blankets when she dozes off, wakes her in regular intervals to check on her. He steadies her whenever she's moving around; dizziness plus crutches isn't a good combination. He keeps her company on the sofa, reading aloud from the manuscript for _Frozen Heat_ in an effort to quell her boredom. When she expresses a desire to be clean, he runs her a bath in his giant tub, knocks on the door to check on her regularly, and leaves a towel and a fluffy bathrobe for her on the counter. He takes the sofa for the night, insists on giving her his bed so she doesn't have to navigate the stairs.

The next morning, he even holds her hair back when she throws up her breakfast.

It's not at all how she imagined her first night in his bedroom would go but, despite the circumstances, it's nice to be taken care of her. It's something Kate hasn't allowed herself to have in a very long time.

* * *

Later that afternoon, she's attempting to stand from the sofa when a wave of dizziness overtakes her and she loses her balance. Castle is there, ready to act, and she ends up falling straight into his arms while the crutches go clattering to the floor.

He stiffens at the initial contact but when Kate gingerly slips her arms around him she feels his muscles gradually relax beneath her hands. She inhales a deep, shaky breath and allows herself to sink into his embrace; he tightens his grip, cradling her to his chest.

They have a long way to go still, and she knows a hug isn't going to be a magical solution. She knows she needs to win back his trust and heal the heart she's so carelessly broken. She's going to have to show him that she's capable of loving him and letting herself be loved in return.

But despite the fact that they still have so many things to work through, it's the first time Kate starts to believe that they really do have a chance of finding their way back to each other.

* * *

It's her second morning at the loft when he kisses her. It's just a quick brush of his lips to her forehead, and he doesn't even realize what he's done until Kate goes perfectly still beneath him.

Right.

They don't _do_ that.

Before he can overthink it, Kate catches him by the hand, tugs him down onto the sofa next to her. He comes willingly; he's feeling more relaxed now than he's been since he first arrived at the hospital. They haven't really talked, haven't worked through any of the conversations that need to be had, but they've been coexisting peacefully and at least that's a start.

It will be a long road to recovery, for her and for them. He needs her to prove that he's her priority, and that she truly is done with the case that keeps tearing them to shreds. They need to talk – _actually talk_ – through everything they've spent the last four years ignoring. They've never been good at that – and Castle is willing to admit that he's just as guilty as she is on this front – but they're both going to have to step to the plate with this one.

To her credit, he can tell Kate has been trying. She's spoken more about her feelings in the past two days than she ever has before.

"Castle, thank you," she offers, perfectly on cue.

He cocks his head, unsure.

"For taking care of me," she elaborates. "And for forgiving me." Kate rests a hand on his leg, squeezes gently. He's not used to her touching him so freely, isn't sure how to react. "I'm so, _so_ sorry," she continues. "I've made so many bad decisions and I've caused you so much pain."

He can't argue with that, but he is glad to know that she's beginning to see things from his perspective.

"We'll get through this," he assures her, his hand dropping to cover hers on his thigh, fingers draped over hers, her skin warm against his palm.

And for the first time since he walked out of her apartment that night, he thinks he might actually be telling the truth.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	16. Chapter 16

_You guys overwhelmingly voted for me to post this one first, so here we go! I edited the original prompt slightly for the sake of spoilers, but I did in fact 100% follow it._

 _Strong T rating._

* * *

 **#16: What if… in 4x13 when Castle is dropping off Royal and he starts stroking Kate's hand, she doesn't pull away?**

 **Prompt by Jenny**

* * *

 _"Oh, and he loves it when you rub him right between the eyes. Just little circles with your thumb, just like this. Not too hard, just…"_

Time grinds to a halt as Castle's thumbs continue their gentle sweeping motion, sending pinpricks of sensation shooting up her arm. She's feeling weak in the knees, lightheaded, her body entirely caught off guard by his touch.

God, how can one simple caress render her so completely helpless? It fills her with anticipation for what lies ahead but it also completely terrifies her.

Kate's eyes are glued to their hands and when she finally manages to tear them away, glances up, his are fixed on their connection as well. He looks utterly in awe, as though he never wants this moment to end.

She doesn't either.

At long last, he looks up and he's close, so close, and the emotions he's usually able to hide beneath the surface are spilling from his eyes with so much intensity. He adores her, he wants her, he loves her.

The rational voice in the back of her head is screaming at her stop, pull her hand away and step back and pretend this never happened. Pretend she can't hear the blood rushing in her ears. But her heart is speaking too, telling her to keep going. Telling her not to pull away but to embrace it. Him. Them.

For the first time in her life, she listens to her heart.

"Castle," she breathes as she leans in, closes the gap between them and presses her lips to his.

He inhales sharply as their lips meet and his thumb comes to an abrupt halt against the back of her hand even as his grip tightens, holding her in place.

She kisses him again, more firmly this time, and he kisses her back but she can tell he's still tentative, still holding back. She understands his hesitance. After all, she asked him to wait mere months ago, asked for time to work through the aftermath of her shooting and begin disassembling the wall around her heart.

But the truth is that Castle started taking a wrecking ball to her wall long ago, and even though parts of it still stand he's been inside it for so long she can't even pinpoint when exactly it happened. She may not be fully recovered, may not be completely ready to tell him how she feels, but maybe she's ready for this. Maybe she can be with him _and_ work through the remainder of her recovery at the same time.

At the moment, though, she can't even begin to find the words to explain her thought process. Not when he's this close, forehead resting against hers and her hand still cradled in both of his. The only thing her brain can make sense of is that she wants to kiss him again and again.

"Don't stop," she manages, little more than a breathy exhale.

* * *

He's never stopping. He'll never stop again. He'd be perfectly happy to continue kissing Kate Beckett for the rest of his life.

He releases his grip on her hand, cradles her jaw instead as he steps into her and deepens the kiss. Kate nips at his lower lip in retaliation, soothes it with the swipe of her tongue.

Her arms are looped around him now, fingers digging into the middle of his back, holding him impossibly close. She's giving as good as she's getting, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke. One hand slides back, fingers weaving into her hair; he adjusts the angle, deepening the kiss once more and she kisses him back just as fervently.

It's Kate who slips her hands under his shirt first, rucking up his jacket and tugging the garment from his waistband, sliding her fingers beneath the fabric and sending a shiver up his spine. Castle responds in kind, allowing one hand to trail down her neck, over her collarbone, tracing a line down her sternum and over her stomach as his fingertips seek the hem of her shirt.

She tightens her grip on him the moment he finds her skin, fingernails probably leaving marks in his back, but he can't bring himself to care. She can draw blood if she wants, so long as he gets to keep exploring the silky smooth skin of her torso.

He experimentally slides his hand higher, traces the ridge of her ribs and feels her shudder. She moans into his mouth, spurring him on, and he's just about to swipe his thumb over the cup of her bra when something presses itself insistently between their hips and they jump apart in surprise.

"What the…" Kate manages, nearly choking on the words.

They look down in unison to find Royal gazing up at them with adorable eyes, wagging his tail hopefully.

"Royal," Castle breathes, half in frustration, half in relief. He runs a hand through his hair, glances at Kate sheepishly. "I forgot he was here."

"Me too," she admits with an equally embarrassed grin.

Royal nudges Castle's leg again and he takes pity on him, reaches down to pat the fluffy retriever on the head.

"Someone's jealous," Kate murmurs, reaching out to stroke the dog as well.

"Well, we were completely ignoring him," Castle agrees.

"Mmm, yeah."

She's gazing at him as though she'd like to keep ignoring Royal and pick up where they left off, and he's really just not sure how to proceed. She'd asked for time and space as she recovered, and he's been doing his best to grant her these requests, but all of that seems to be thrown out the window now and he's not sure if that's good or bad.

It's definitely good. Making out with her was very, very good. But he's not sure they should have done it here and now, because if she's not ready then he doesn't want things to go any further but it's going to take every ounce of his self-restraint to not kiss her again now that he's had the opportunity to do so once more.

"Do you, uh," Kate breaks the silence then hesitates, "want to stay for a while?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

She looks hurt and he has to stop himself from reaching for her, comforting her with his touch. It's all he wants to do, but he shouldn't. If he does, he might not let her go.

"I just… I don't know if I can be here right now without kissing you again," he begins to explain, "and you asked me to wait and I will but I just…"

"I don't want to wait," she interrupts, and he stumbles to a halt. "Not anymore."

"You… don't?"

Kate shakes her head. "I'm so sick of waiting, Castle."

His heart is pounding and his palms are sweaty, his entire body coming alive with anticipation, but he has to be certain. And so does she.

"You're sure?"

Kate reaches for him, catches both hands in hers as she speaks the most wonderful word he's ever heard. "Positive."

* * *

He's kissing her almost before she finishes her answer, tugging her to him with their joined hands and capturing her lips with his own.

Their fingers detangle and she feels his hands land on her hips, fingertips already seeking skin. He slips a finger beneath her waistband, tracing the line of her underwear and erecting a trail of goosebumps on her skin.

Kate untucks the front of his shirt this time, making certain to brush her knuckles against the smooth skin of his stomach. He groans softly against her lips, sneaks an entire hand beneath her shirt to span the curve of her waist. His hands are broad, dexterous; she can't wait to see what he can do with them.

Her heart accelerates at the thought.

Castle is working his way up her side, dragging her shirt with him, so Kate draws her focus to the buttons of his shirt in an attempt to even the score. He's ravaging her mouth with his even as he explores her skin, rendering her fingers fairly useless against the small plastic disks. She finally manages to get the bottom one free, blindly slides her fingers up until she encounters the next one. She's just wriggling the third one free from its hole when Castle slips his thumb beneath the wire of her bra and she completely loses her ability to function.

His other hand deftly unhooks the clasp and the garment comes loose; Castle wastes no time in sliding his hand beneath the slack fabric and cupping her in the warmth of his palm.

"Oh, God," she breathes, reaching for the hem of her own shirt. She's just about to pull it over her head when a whining sound shatters the moment and she allows the fabric to fall back into place with a groan.

Castle tears his lips away from hers, drops his forehead into the crease of her neck and his hands to her waist.

"You're killin' me, Royal," he mutters. But despite the dog's terrible timing, Kate can't help the laugh that spills from her lips.

"Sorry," she says quickly as Castle lifts his head.

The author huffs a sigh. "I can't believe I'm being cockblocked by a dog."

Royal nudges his leg in reply.

* * *

They try shutting the door to her bedroom, leaving Royal outside, but the poor guy begins whining and scratching the door almost immediately, so it's no use. Castle supposes he can't really blame him. He did just lose his human, and now his temporary humans are abandoning him, too.

In the end, Castle takes Royal home and leaves him with Alexis for the evening. His daughter isn't thrilled about having to watch the dog – "Dad, I have a theoretical physics test in three days," she argues – but ultimately she agrees to do it.

He feels a little uneasy when he claims the reason for his sudden request is that he has to run down a new lead with Beckett. He's made it a point never to lie to Alexis, but there's no way in hell he's going to tell her what he'll actually be doing with Beckett. This is one of those times when dishonesty is probably the best policy.

Nevertheless, he feels guilty.

Just not guilty enough to allow Royal to interrupt his night with Kate.

* * *

Castle's place isn't that far from hers and she knows he hasn't actually been gone that long, but it feels like hours. In an attempt to pass the time, she absently wipes down her entire kitchen, dusts the bookshelves, sprays some Windex on the bathroom mirror and straightens up the counter top.

She's just finishing a completely unnecessary reorganization of her makeup when her phone buzzes with a text.

He's five minutes away.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Kate crosses to her dresser, digs out a lacy black number that hasn't seen the light of day in far too long, and slips it on. It's low cut, sheer, and leaves very little to the imagination, and she's on the brink of changing her mind and putting her regular clothes back on when there's a knock on the door.

A wave of panic washes over her and she has to take a few deep calming breaths before she can bring herself to answer it. She's worried she's made the wrong decision with her outfit, afraid he'll have changed his mind during their time apart, nervous for Castle to see her like this. The neckline forms a sharp vee between her breasts, leaving her bullet scar completely exposed. No one aside from her doctors has seen it, and though she's slowly coming to terms with the damaged pieces of skin and all they represent, she still hasn't completely reached a place of acceptance.

But then she swings the door open and Castle steps across the threshold, capturing her jaw in both hands and kissing her deeply. He whispers "you're so sexy" against her lips, and the nerves dissipate in an instant, fading into elation.

They're finally doing this.

* * *

His jacket hits the ground within the first ten seconds, the flaps of his shirt falling open less than a minute later. He toes off his shoes as Kate unfastens his belt, releases the button and pulls down the zipper. The pants fall to his ankles and he steps out of them with some difficulty; her tongue in his mouth and her hands on his skin have rendered him utterly unable to function.

His hands spread over the curve of her ass, half naked beneath the sexy outfit she's wearing that's everything he's ever imagined and more. Kate laces her arms around his neck, pushes off the ground with her toes and wraps her legs around his waist.

She's lithe and strong, thighs firmly gripping his waist and fingers now buried in his hair. She's stunning and sexy all the time, but having her wrapped around him wearing a slinky black outfit is like something straight out of his fantasies.

He never imagined anything even remotely similar would actually come true.

But it does.

In fact, the entire evening is better than anything he could've conjured up in his mind, and his heart threatens to beat out of the confines of his chest as Kate relinquishes her control, sinking into the bed with a moan and surrendering to the intense passion.

The fact that she trusts him so deeply means more to him than she probably realizes.

And watching her fall apart is the most erotic and beautiful thing he's ever witnessed.

Later, much later, they lay tangled up in her sheets, sweat drying on their naked skins and heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Castle never imagined their first night together would happen so soon. Sometimes, he found it hard to believe that it would ever happen at all. But they're here, and she's letting him in, and she's gazing up at him as though she might possibly be in love with him, too.

There's absolutely nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you to Indrani for answering all my medical questions (months ago when I started writing this one, I'm sure she doesn't even remember it now…). If anything is incorrect or inaccurate, I take 100% of the blame._

* * *

 **#17: What if… Rick had been shot in the cemetery instead of Kate and he told her he loved her? (prompt by Wanda)**

 **-and-**

 **What if… Smith called Kate instead of Castle? (prompt by anon)**

* * *

She doesn't even see it coming.

One moment, Kate is standing at the podium delivering Montgomery's eulogy, and the next, Castle is shouting her name and launching himself in her direction, colliding with her at full speed just as a sickening crack echoes through the air.

They tumble to the ground, Castle practically on top of her; it knocks the wind out of her but she doesn't feel like she's been shot. Someone definitely sent a bullet in her direction, though, and she needs to get up, needs to run after the guy. But Castle is still on top of her, the entire weight of his body pinning her down.

"Castle," she grunts, attempting to wriggle beneath him. "Get up."

When he doesn't reply, she turns her head, finds him staring blankly at the ground, face pale and eyes wide with shock.

Oh, God. Oh no. No, no, no.

"Castle," Kate gasps, rolling him off of her with a great deal of effort. He flops onto his back and she immediately rises to her knees, begins to search for any sign of injury. There's nothing on his front but as she wraps her arm around his left shoulder, she feels the unmistakable smooth warmth of blood coat her glove.

Oh, God.

A wave of nausea overtakes her; she forces it down, uses every ounce of training she's ever received to avoid spiraling into a complete panic.

"Call an ambulance," she shouts over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her partner. He's gazing up at her with wide blue eyes, the color duller than she's ever seen it even with the bright blue sky and the sun shining down overhead.

"Castle, stay with me," she pleads, tears falling from her cheeks onto his shirt as she hovers above him. She takes off both gloves, folds them over a couple times and presses them against the back of his shoulder, desperate pressure against the bullet hole. But it's no use. Blood is soaking the fabric, coating her hand, hot and sticky.

He wanly lifts his right arm, reaches for her but misses, and the limb falls back to the ground.

"Rick, please," she begs, raising her other hand to cradle his cheek. The skin is soft against her palm and a teardrop falls into the valley between her forefinger and thumb. "Stay with me."

But he's fading fast, eyelashes fluttering and the life leaving his eyes.

"Castle," Kate chokes. She can't breathe, can't see through the tears, can barely speak around what feels like a golf ball lodged in her throat. This can't be happening. It can't. She can't lose him, too. And where the hell is that ambulance?

"Kate," he finally manages, the word little more than a strained exhale. His eyes fall closed, flicker open only briefly as he speaks. It's soft, barely there, but she hears him loud and clear. "I love you."

And then he loses consciousness.

* * *

It's utter chaos. Officers are taking statements, guests are panicked, and Ryan and Espo have run off in search of the shooter when the ambulance finally pulls up. The EMTs expertly maneuver Castle onto a stretcher, rush him away, and Kate is about to follow when someone calls her name.

The detective whirls around, nearly losing her balance as a wave of dizziness washes over her. Lanie is jogging towards her with Martha and Alexis and oh, shit. His family just watched him get shot, and in her state of panic she completely forgot they were even here.

They catch up to her within a few seconds and then Lanie is grabbing her hand, tugging her aside. "Stay with them. Javi will drive you guys to the hospital. I'm goin' in the ambulance."

As quickly as she appeared, she's gone, leaving Kate standing in the middle of the cemetery with blood-stained white gloves still clutched in her hand and the family of the man who just took a bullet that was presumably meant for her.

It's Martha who speaks first, resting a hand on Kate's shoulder as she does so. "Katherine."

Kate turns, completely unprepared to face Castle's family, and promptly finds herself enveloped in a hug. She drops the gloves and returns Martha's embrace, careful to keep her bloody hands away from the woman's clothes. Martha tugs Alexis in to join them, but Kate can tell the girl is reluctant.

"He'll be okay," she promises inanely. The bullet hit his shoulder, high enough that it should have missed his heart and lungs. Probably shattered some bones, nicked an artery – given the amount of blood – but nothing that should be fatal.

"He better," Alexis mutters. Kate stiffens and pulls away but doesn't respond.

"Come on," she says instead, taking charge of the situation with the last bit of strength she can muster. "We should get to the hospital."

* * *

In the end, it's her father that drives them.

Kate sits in the front, utterly shell-shocked, while Martha and Alexis shed silent tears in the back seat. Her father doesn't say a word, simply focuses on getting them to the hospital as quickly as possible, and she's infinitely grateful for it. She doesn't think she could speak right now anyway.

Jim parks the car, guides them into the lobby where they quickly encounter Lanie, Ryan, and Esposito. Lanie takes over, thank God, showing Martha and Alexis to some chairs. Kate receives an update from Ryan and Espo, then a hug from her father. Her dad has always given great hugs. Castle gives great hugs too, as she's learned from the two brief embraces they've shared, but now he's in surgery because he's been shot and what if Alexis never gets to be hugged by her father ever again?

It's this thought that tears a sob from her chest as tears begin to pour from her eyes with renewed vigor.

Oh, God.

She told his family he'd be okay, and she thinks he probably will, but what if he doesn't make it? He lost so much blood.

It's still all over her hands.

Kate jerks out of her father's arms, dashes down the hall and only narrowly makes it to a toilet before the meager contents of her stomach come rushing out. She's still in the bathroom twenty minutes later, seated on the floor next to the toilet with her head resting against the wall, when Lanie comes in search of her.

"Kate," the ME gasps, hurriedly kneeling by her side and wrapping her in her arms. "Honey, I'm so sorry."

Kate only manages a sob in reply.

"He'll be okay," Lanie promises, soft voice in her ear. "He lost a lotta blood but his vitals were strong and he's already in surgery." She pulls away, reaches out to brush a streak of dirt off Kate's cheek. "Come on," she urges, offering a hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"He told me he loves me," Kate blurts.

"Honey, of course he does," Lanie says with a gentle smile.

Kate jerks her head up, eyes widening in surprise. "You knew?"

"I think everyone knows," her friend replies. "He's not exactly subtle."

She can't find the words to reply.

But this time when Lanie offers a hand, she takes it and allows the ME to guide her to the sink so she can wash away the blood. There's probably still some under her fingernails, and she'll need to take a long, scalding hot shower before she'll actually feel like it's gone, but at least it's no longer caked on her palms or in the creases of her knuckles.

She won't be taking a shower any time soon, though, because there's no way in hell she's going home until the jackass who shot Castle is in custody.

* * *

She's just barely managed to sort of pull herself together and head back out to the waiting room when the door to the surgical suite flies open, and Kate lifts her gaze in time to see her boyfriend striding out, looking furious. Right. Josh is on shift today. Of course he'd have been called in for someone with a chest wound.

"What the hell, Kate?"

She shrugs him off. She can't deal with him right now, not when her partner is in critical condition. "Not now, Josh."

"How does someone get shot at a funeral?"

"I don't know, but I need to go find out."

"No, you need to explain to me what the hell is going on."

"Castle got shot," she hisses with a fury that surprises even herself. "That's what's going on. They were aiming for me and they hit him..." it's not exactly a lie but she's not about to relive the details, "...and now whoever did it is on the run and I need to find him and make him pay."

"Kate."

"I'll see you later."

And with that, she turns and dashes down the hospital hallway. Away from the boyfriend she's been blowing off for more than a week now. Away from the partner who loves her and is in surgery because of her. Away from his family who is sitting in the waiting room, terrified.

Away.

She can't think about the disaster of her personal life right now, can't handle the guilt of knowing that it's her fault Castle is here, her fault his family is suffering through this paralyzing worry. This never should have happened. She should have ended their partnership long ago, before it turned into more. Before it got to the point that Castle was willing to risk his life to save hers.

Before he fell in love with her.

* * *

It's a whirlwind when Kate gets back to the precinct. Despite Ryan and Espo's best efforts, the sniper has vanished. They've deployed canine units and organized a grid search. They're scrubbing traffic cam footage and they've called in extra shifts. They found a rifle at the cemetery with traces of DNA on it, but the results aren't in yet and, so far, everything else has come up empty.

Kate has completely lost track of how long she's been at her desk, desperately searching for a lead, when her phone rings and startles her from the video footage she's been staring at so long her eyes have dried out. It's Martha, informing her Castle is out of surgery, awake, and asking for her.

She's racing for the elevator before his mother has even finished her sentence.

* * *

Kate is seated by Castle's bed watching his chest rise and fall – he fell back asleep before she arrived at the hospital – when Josh pokes his head in.

"Hey," he greets, coming to an awkward stop just inside the door. "You coming home tonight?"

Home. Meaning his apartment. She almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it. Josh's apartment has never felt like home to her, and she knows he doesn't feel at home at her place, either.

"I'm gonna stay here for a while, make sure he's okay."

"He's fine, Kate," Josh explains, and she can hear the barely-concealed derision in his voice. "The bullet shattered his scapula and nicked an artery but missed his vital organs. They repaired the damage, gave him a couple pints of blood. He'll be here for about a week and then he'll be discharged."

"I know that." She's not sure if it's his condescension or the detachment exhibited in the rundown of Castle's condition that irritates her the most.

"Then let's go home."

Kate stands and crosses the room, comes to a stop in front of her boyfriend and folds her arms over her chest. "He saved my life, Josh." She's had plenty of time to think, to replay what happened in excruciating detail, and the only way Castle would have been hit in the shoulder is if the bullet was coming for her chest.

A bullet to the heart isn't something a person is likely to survive.

"It's my fault he's here. I'm not leaving. Not until he wakes up and I can talk to him."

Josh steps back, raises his hands in supplication. "You know, I'm not an idiot. There's clearly something going on between you two."

"Castle and I aren't…"

"Maybe you don't see it," he continues, interrupting her interruption. "Maybe you don't want to admit it, but it's there. I don't think I fit into it anywhere, and I'm tired of trying, so I'm going to go."

"Josh," she begins, but trails off. She's not sure how to respond. She was on the cusp of breaking up with him anyway.

"It's okay," he says, his jaw tight. "It's been fun, but it's not meant to be."

She can't bring herself to apologize or agree or even reply. All the words are stuck in her throat as he murmurs a good bye and turns away, slipping from Castle's room and disappearing down the hallway. Kate stands, rooted in place for far too long as his words bounce around her mind like the ricochet of a pinball.

There's nothing going on between her and Castle. There never has been.

Well, that's not entirely true. There was _almost_ something last summer, before he walked away arm in arm with his ex-wife and left her standing in the hallway with her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes. But they've never actually crossed that line.

Now, though...

He loves her. Castle loves her.

She still doesn't know what to do with this knowledge. And she sure as hell doesn't know how she feels about him. She could probably figure it out if she took the time to stop and think about it, but since last summer she's been especially careful to, well, _not_ do that.

Kate isn't sure how long she's been standing there lost in thought when she hears the soft call of her name and her heart accelerates in her chest as she turns to find her partner gazing at her with tired eyes.

"Castle," she breathes, rushing back across the room and sinking into the chair near his bed. "You're awake."

"Mmmm," he hums. "You're here."

"Of course."

"Mother and Alexis?" he asks, glancing around. His words and movements are sluggish, but he looks okay considering the circumstances.

"They'll be back in the morning," she assures him. They'd been at the hospital all day; only when Kate showed up an hour ago did Martha finally convince Alexis to head home for the night. She thinks it was mostly because the teen didn't want to be in the same room as her.

Castle nods, winces in pain.

"You okay?"

"Hurts," he murmurs. "Shoulder."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Your shoulder blade was shattered. They had to put it back together with pins and plates. Does that make you a cyborg now?" she tries to joke.

Castle offers a small smile, but mostly it falls flat.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes," she lies, the syllable caught in her throat. Physically she's okay, but emotionally she's a wreck. She should be the one in the hospital bed with a bullet wound in her chest. Not him.

"Good," he murmurs, seemingly pleased with himself. "Good."

"I can't believe you did that," Kate whispers with a shake of her head.

"Did what?"

"Jumped in front of a bullet. That was meant for _me,_ Castle."

"I'm your partner," he answers, voice gaining strength as he more fully emerges from the haze of sleep and drugs. "'S my job to protect you."

"No," she protests. " _I'm_ supposed to be protecting _you_. You have a family, Castle. You have people who need you. "

"I need _you_ ," he replies without hesitation. In the background, the beep of the heart monitor is accelerating. She shouldn't have brought this up right now; he needs to relax, not get riled up. "I can't lose you, Kate," he continues. "I'm so in love with you."

"I..." she begins, stumbles to a halt, because how does she even respond when her partner confesses his love for her – _again_ – while lying in a hospital bed recovering from a bullet that was meant for her?

"I'm sorry it took this happening for me to finally say it," he confesses. "And I know you're with someone," he continues, and Kate tries to ignore the way his voice breaks and his eyes dull as he recites this piece of information that he doesn't realize is no longer true. "But I needed you to know."

The silence stretches past the point of uncomfortable before Kate finally unsticks her tongue and manages to speak. "I don't know what to say," she mumbles.

Castle extends a hand, his arm flailing by his side in an attempt to reach her. He cringes and Kate catches his hand in both of her own before he injures himself even further.

"Say you won't kick me out," he begs.

But no, she can't promise that. No way. He's not coming back to the precinct. Not after this. Not now that she knows how much danger he'll put himself in to save her. Not now that she's realized what it would be like to lose him. How easily that could happen.

She should've realized it sooner, should have realized it when he rescued her from her burning apartment or stood with her in front of a dirty bomb or beat a sniper senseless. He's been putting himself in danger to protect her for so long now, and it can't happen anymore.

"Castle..."

"Please," he adds, so earnestly. "I want you in my life."

She wants him in her life, too. But that won't happen if he's dead.

"Look," she begins, summoning all the confidence and courage she can muster, "I don't know what will happen. There'll be a new captain, and you need to recover, and your family…" Kate trails off. She knows Alexis blames her, and though Martha won't reveal anything, Kate suspects the matriarch blames her too. "But we'll work something out," she promises. "I want you in my life too."

His answering lopsided grin is the most wonderful thing she's ever seen.

* * *

Kate's phone rings the next afternoon. She's been at the precinct for hours already – they all have – and it takes a moment for her to find the device beneath the stacks of paper covering her desk. It's not a number she recognizes, and when she answers it's a mysterious voice that speaks.

The man on the other end of the line calls himself Smith, says he's a friend of Montgomery's; that her late captain once saved his life. Smith claims to have files with information damaging to the person who hired the sniper and says he's used them to strike a deal with the man: the safety of Kate – and Castle – in exchange for dropping the case.

She's stunned, stands in the break room staring at her phone for a solid ten minutes after Smith hangs up. She just… has no idea what to do. Or what to believe. The man sounded earnest; but then again, her captain, her mentor, turned out to be tangentially involved in the death of her mother.

Who can she even trust?

And if this mysterious Smith _is_ telling the truth, she needs to find him and force him to hand over those files. Friend of Montgomery's or not, favor or not, he has no right to withhold the identity of the man who murdered her mother and her captain, shot her partner, and is probably still out there trying to kill her.

She tells Ryan and Espo first, but the two detectives disagree on how to proceed. Ryan insists on playing it safe, tracking down Smith discreetly and then setting up surveillance to establish that he really is who he says he is.

But that could take months and will require bringing other officers into the loop on everything that's happening. Given the number of dirty cops already known to be involved, Espo is as wary as Kate is about telling anyone else what's going on. He agrees with her: they do this themselves, quietly, and no one else can know. Ryan is dubious but reluctantly concedes to doing it their way.

Now that they have a plan, the first order of business is to identify the mysterious Mr. Smith and figure out how to track him down.

* * *

"How's the case going?" Castle asks Kate as she settles into the chair by his bedside that evening.

"I got a call," she offers. She's been debating whether to keep this information secret, but she values his perspective. Maybe he'll think of something they haven't.

"From?" he prompts curiously.

"A man named Smith," Kate recites. "He says he's an old friend of Montgomery's, and that he has information that can ID the man behind this."

"Beckett," Castle interrupts.

"He wouldn't tell me where he is and we couldn't trace his call, but the boys are talking to Evelyn now to try to ID him."

"It's a setup," Castle says instantly.

"What?"

"Smith. He's not a friend of Montgomery's and there are no files," the author states with conviction. "It's a setup. They're trying to lure you to them so they can shoot you again."

"Or," she protests, "he really is a friend of Montgomery's and he actually does have the files."

"Why would a random guy Montgomery knew have this information?"

"Montgomery sent it to him," Kate answers, recollecting the rest of the phone call. "The day he died. Smith said he owes him a favor."

Castle is shaking his head. "No. I don't buy it. It's too easy."

"Castle..."

"It's a setup, Kate. You can't go after him."

"He shot you," she protests, broken and a little desperate.

"Yes, I'm aware," he deadpans.

"Don't you want him to pay for that?"

"Of course I do," he agrees. "But not if it costs you your life. And your mother wouldn't want that, either."

Kate rises angrily, takes a step back. "You didn't even know her," she hisses. "You have no idea what she would have wanted."

"I'm a parent," he retorts. "So yes, I do know."

Kate turns for the door, crossing the room in long, furious strides. She can't believe they're having this fight again, and she's not about to sit here and listen to him tell her to walk away. Again. "I have to get back to the precinct."

She yanks on the handle far more forcefully than necessary, flings the door open and steps out into the hallway. But not before she hears Castle's broken "Kate, please don't," echo through the small, white room.

It's almost enough to make her stop.

Almost.

* * *

Evelyn identifies the mysterious caller as Michael Smith, a lawyer and long-time friend of Montgomery's. She doesn't have an address or phone number but she does find a photo of him in their wedding album. It's not much. But it's the closest thing they've had to a lead since the bullet tore through Castle's shoulder, and Kate is determined not to lose this one.

Her call to the number from which Smith called her ends with a 'this number is no longer in service' message, and a search of their database reveals – unsurprisingly – a large number of Michael Smiths in the tri-state area. Assuming this is even the correct Smith. It's a long list, but they eventually identify him from a driver's license photo. He's much older now than in the photo from Evelyn and Roy's wedding, but Kate is relatively certain it's the same man.

When Beckett, Ryan, and Espo show up at the listed address the next morning, however, the building is being remodeled and it's clear that no one has resided there for quite some time. It's been torn down to the studs. They fan out, searching all five floors just in case, and Kate has just come upon a mailbox with a label that reads _M. Smith unit 523_ , when the sound of two shots fired almost simultaneously echoes through the vacant building.

A bullet grazes her, tearing through the fabric of her shirt and taking the skin of her bicep with it. Heat and fire envelop her arm as she dives for the ground and awkwardly reaches for her gun.

"Beckett, you okay?"

Kate warily peels herself off the cement, tries to ignore the blood seeping through her right sleeve. She turns to find Esposito standing over the body of an unknown man, dead on the floor with a gun in his hand.

She has no doubt that the bullet he just put through the man's heart saved her life.

* * *

The building promptly becomes a crime scene and Kate finds herself being pulled into an ambulance. An EMT cleans her wound, patches her up; thankfully it was just a graze but it still hurts like hell.

It's hours before she and Espo are finally done being questioned and are free to go. But Kate has no idea where to go or what happens now. It's become clear that she's never going to be safe until the man behind all the bloodshed has been taken down. But as it stands, Smith is their only lead. If they can't find him and get those files, they don't stand a chance of putting this thing to rest.

In the end, she winds up at a diner with her Dad. She needs his perspective, needs his assertion that she's doing the right thing by continuing to chase Smith, continuing her quest for justice.

That's not what she gets.

"Katie," he begins, coffee mug cradled in both hands and sternness in his eyes. "If this man can keep you out of danger, you can't get in the way of that."

"He has the answers, Dad," she protests. "He knows who's behind this."

"Maybe," her father agrees. "Or maybe he doesn't. Either way, nothing good can come from continuing to chase this thing."

"I just…" Kate averts her eyes, blinks back tears of anger and disappointment. It's bad enough that she's been letting her mom down all these years, but if she stops now, she'll be letting Castle down, too. "I can't let this go," she says, and she can hear the desperation in her own voice. "They killed Mom, they killed Montgomery, and now they shot Castle. I have to find them."

"And they almost killed you," he reminds her frankly. "I know you want them to pay for what they did. I do too. But not at the expense of your life."

"But Mom…"

"Would want you to live," he interrupts pointedly, eyes boring into hers. "She would want you to be happy. And you're not happy when you're drowning in this case. But you _are_ happy when you're with Rick."

Kate both loves and hates her father's candor; right now, she's pretty far towards the hate end of the spectrum.

"Dad…"

He holds up a hand to stop her protest. "Don't bother denying it, Katie. Everyone can see it."

She huffs in irritation but, yeah, he's right. Castle _does_ make her happy. He makes her happier than she's been in twelve years. It wasn't like this with Will or Tom or even with Josh. They were fun, and handsome, and good guys, and she liked them. But Castle makes her smile and laugh and love her job. He makes her see things in a different way. He challenges her, keeps her on her toes, and he's a constant surprise. Sometimes, he almost makes her believe that her life can be more than what it is.

And he loves her

Oh, God. Castle loves her.

She thinks she might actually love him, too.

"Please, Katie," her dad pleads once more, drawing her attention, and when she catches his gaze from across the table she can't miss the fear in his eyes or the exhaustion spilling from the lines of his face. "This man, whoever he is, has taken so much from us already. Please don't let him take anything more."

She opens her mouth to speak, but she's not sure what she's planning to say.

"Rick took that bullet to protect you," her dad continues. As if she doesn't already know that. "If something happens to you now..."

"Okay," she interrupts before he can verbalize the words. "Okay. I'll drop it. I promise."

* * *

She loves him.

Ever since the thought crossed her mind, she can't seem to banish it.

She's in love with Castle.

She's been reluctantly attracted to him since day one, has wanted him for longer than she cares to admit. But _love_? She _loves_ him? She's not even entirely sure when her feelings crossed the line from a harmless crush to liking him to loving him, but they have and there's no turning back now.

She's completely in love with him. And she's not even remotely equipped to deal with it. She doesn't know how to be in love. Or to let herself be loved. She has no idea how to show him or tell him how she feels. And the thought of letting him into her life and her heart more than she already has terrifies her. If she lets him in and something happens…

Except, she realizes now, he's already in. She's kept the key to her heart concealed for so many years, but he picked the lock without her realizing it, and now she couldn't get him out even if she wanted to.

Kate has no idea what to do.

But, one way or another, she needs to talk to Castle.

* * *

It's late when she arrives at the hospital, and her partner is drifting on the edges of sleep when she slips into his room.

"Hey," she murmurs.

"Don't you have a case to work?" he asks by way of greeting, clearly still upset with her for the way they left things.

"No," Kate answers, sinking into the chair by his bed. "Not anymore."

He doesn't reply, but she does seem to have his attention.

"I tried to track down Smith," she acknowledges. "We didn't find him, but we did find your sniper."

"You did?" Castle asks in surprise.

She nods. "He's dead."

The lab had confirmed it about an hour ago; DNA from the man Esposito shot this morning was a match to the DNA from the weapon found in the cemetery. It didn't yield any matches in the system, though, and they hadn't yet been able to verify the man's identity.

"I, uh, what happened?"

"We were at the address listed on Smith's driver's license," Kate explains, shaking her head. "It's not current but, I don't know. Somehow he must've known we'd go there."

"So Smith was involved?" Castle asks.

"I don't know," Kate says again. "Espo had to shoot the guy before we could ask him any questions."

"Oh," Castle answers. There's a long pause before he speaks again. "Well I guess I'm glad he's gone."

Kate hums in agreement.

"I'm sorry," she says after an extended moment of silence. "For not listening to you before. I shouldn't have gone after him. And I should've been honest with you."

"What do you mean?" Castle questions in confusion.

"My conversation with Smith," she begins, eyes fixed on her lap and the wringing motion of her hands. "There's more to it than what I told you. Smith cut a deal with whoever is behind this."

He awkwardly works himself into a more seated position, flinching in pain as he resituates against the pillows. "What kind of deal?"

Kate lifts her head, forces herself to meet her partner's eyes. "The information he has will never see the light of day, in exchange for my safety and yours. But I have to drop this case."

"Your sa…" Castle begins, trails off, and when he speaks again, she can tell he's angry. "You had a chance to protect yourself _and_ me, and you didn't take it?"

"For all we know, he's not even telling the truth," she argues. "I thought if I could find whoever is behind all of this, then we wouldn't have to rely on some mysterious deal to keep us safe."

"You thought risking your life – _again –_ was the best way to keep yourself safe?"

"I was trying to find justice," she snaps.

Kate firmly places both hands on the arms of the chair to push herself to her feet, poised to storm out, but in her anger she's forgotten about her injury. She's barely lifted her butt off the cushion when flames shoot through her arm and she collapses back into the chair with a hiss, doubled over in pain.

"Beckett, what happened?" Castle gasps in surprise.

"It's just a graze," she answers through gritted teeth, left hand cupping her right elbow and holding her arm still across her stomach.

"You got shot?" he practically yells. She lifts her head in time to watch his wide eyes fill with pain and fury. "Damn it, Kate, you can't keep chasing this guy."

"I know," she whispers as she attempts to breathe through the pain. "I'm not chasing him anymore. I'm done."

Her quiet confession catches Castle completely off guard. "What?"

"I'm done," Kate repeats. "I'm not working the case anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because," she begins, lifting tentative eyes to his. "You were right. My mom wouldn't want me to die for this. She'd want me to live and be happy, and I'm happiest when I'm with you."

"You… I… what?" he stammers, a little confused and a lot adorable. "With me as in… _with_ me?"

Kate nods. She can't bring herself to speak; what little courage she had seems to already be used up.

"Uh. What about Josh?"

This one, she can manage. "We broke up."

"Oh."

She offers a timid smile.

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know," she admits. "I'm terrible at this, Castle."

"Terrible at what?"

Oh, God. He's actually going to make her say it, isn't he?

"Being… with someone." Kate wrinkles her nose as the words leave her mouth. It sounds so proper and virtuous when she phrases it that way, but there's nothing particularly virtuous about what she wants to happen between them. Eventually. Once they're both healed.

"Partners, Beckett," Castle answers, tearing her away from thoughts of their future non-virtuous activities. "We'll figure it out together."

He says it as though it's obvious. So simple.

Can it really be that easy?

"Hey," he encourages when she doesn't reply. "Kate?" She forces herself to meet his eyes and grasp the hand he's extending to her with her uninjured arm. Their fingers twine and their palms meet and the fit is so perfect she has to stop it from overwhelming her. "We're going to be great. I promise."

She forces herself to nod, despite her nervousness.

"Come here," he urges with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Kate rises and awkwardly leans over the bed, careful to avoid hurting her injured arm any further or jostling his shoulder. Collectively, they're a medical mess.

Castle releases her hand and raises his right arm to cradle her jaw, guiding her to him. The press of his lips to hers is gentle, tentative, and over far too soon. But as her eyes slide open and she finds him gazing at her with so much tenderness and adoration and love – the same combination of emotions she's currently feeling for him – Kate finds herself believing his earlier words.

Together, they'll figure this out.

And together, they're going to be great.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	18. Chapter 18

_Takes place during 2x13, Sucker Punch._

* * *

 **#18: What if… Castle didn't come clean about Johanna Beckett's murder at the end of 1x10?**

* * *

The moment Castle sees Jack Coonan's body lying on the exam table, chest bare, he knows something is wrong. He can't pinpoint it, but something is off. He has a sick feeling in his stomach. It's not until Lanie is talking about the stab wounds that it hits him, and he's overtaken by a wave of horror. No wonder the crime scene looked oddly familiar.

"Hey, uh, I'll catch up," he offers after Kate thanks Lanie and heads for the door, throws a questioning glance over her shoulder when Castle doesn't follow. "I can catch a cab to the precinct."

She looks confused and he can't blame her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course," he lies. "I just, uh, need some medical insight on a scene I was writing last night."

Kate doesn't look convinced, but she pushes through the double doors, leaving Castle alone in the morgue with Lanie and a dreaded conversation.

"What?" Lanie asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"I, uh, have to tell you something," he begins.

"Tell me what?"

"You can't get mad."

Lanie folds her arms across her chest. "I don't like where this is going."

"These stab wounds," Castle begins, indicating the body. "I've seen them before."

"How exactly?"

"From another case," he answers. "Ten years ago." Castle swallows hard, bracing himself to speak the words. But the wounds are identical, he's sure of it, and he can't keep this secret any longer. "It's Beckett's mother."

The silence is deafening, elastic, stretching beyond the point of tension before Lanie finally breaks it. "How do you know what Beckett's mother's stab wounds look like?"

"I have the case files," he confesses. "I got them hoping I could find something someone missed, but I didn't actually think I would."

"You found something?" Lanie looks torn between incredulous and furious.

"A friend did," he corrects. "A pathologist. He looked into it and found three other people who were killed exactly the same way at almost the same time."

"Does Beckett know?"

"No," he admits with a shake of his head. "I asked her if she'd ever considered reopening the case and she told me if I touched it, we were done."

"And you dug into it anyway," Lanie scolded.

"The pathologist already had the files when she told me this," he argues.

"And you haven't told her what you found?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Castle snaps, frustrated. "Hey, Beckett, I know you said this case almost destroyed you but here's some new evidence for you to drown in."

"You coulda just left it alone to begin with."

"Okay, yes," he concedes. "But I didn't. And now I have to tell her."

"Not until I see the file," Lanie demands. "If you tell her these are connected and they're not..."

"They are," he says, wishing he wasn't so confident about this, wishing he was wrong. "I'm certain."

"I don't care," the ME replies. "You're showing me the file and I need to talk to that pathologist."

"I'll send you some pictures tonight."

* * *

He's right.

Lanie confirms it, just as he knew she would.

She also gives him a lengthy lecture on his decisions to steal the file, dig into it, and keep what he found a secret. He sits through it in silence, teeth gritted. As if he hasn't already heard this from his mother, multiple times. As if he doesn't know that he's screwed up. As if he isn't dreading how much this is going to hurt her. And himself.

Castle doesn't sleep at all that night, appearing in the precinct the following morning with dark circles beneath his dry, red eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kate asks.

He passes her a coffee, sets his own on the corner of her desk. "I, uh, have to tell you something. About our case."

It's only then that she notices the shorter, older man next to him. Kate glances from the mystery man back to Castle.

"This is Dr. Clark Murray," he offers. "He's a forensic pathologist."

The two greet each other and shake hands before Dr. Murray indicates they go somewhere private to talk. Castle can see the confusion in Kate's eyes as he pulls out the ME file he picked up from Lanie when he and Dr. Murray met with her this morning.

Castle's stomach is tied into knots and so nauseous that he hasn't even been able to drink his coffee, let alone eat a bite of food. She's going to kick him out. He just knows it. This is the last time he'll be able to show up at the precinct and spend the day by her side.

Sometimes it's hard to believe he's only been shadowing her for a year. It's become second nature to wake up, head to the precinct, stop for two coffees on the way. They work together so naturally that it's almost difficult to remember when this wasn't his daily routine.

This is his life now, and he can't imagine it any other way.

* * *

Kate sits in stunned silence after Murray leaves, tears of anger and pain and disbelief filling her eyes. The one thing she asked Castle not to do, and he did it anyway.

She's hurt. She's more hurt than she wants to admit. She might have despised his presence initially but she's grown to enjoy having him by her side. She could have sent him home last summer, once his book was done and his research excuse ran out, but she let him stay and he showed up at the precinct faithfully day after day.

Ever since, she's felt them growing closer. There was a moment at the book launch where she was sure he was going to ask her out… and she would have said yes. They flirted incessantly at his Halloween party. They spend time together outside of the precinct sometimes; the Blue Pill concert and Kyra's wedding, to name a few examples.

She danced with him at the wedding. She almost kissed him.

And now she learns that he dug into her past, found something that didn't add up in her mother's case file, and kept it from her. She's not sure which of these things upsets her more. She's possibly most upset at the fact that she's allowed herself to fall for him in the first place.

"Beckett?" Castle hazards after a full minute of silence.

"Get out," she utters, voice lower and more dangerous than he's ever heard it.

"If you can just let me explain…"

"Explain?" she snaps, eyes flashing with anger. "You did the one thing I asked you not to do, and there isn't an explanation in the world that's going to change that."

"I just thought…"

"Exactly," she interrupts, glaring daggers at him. "You thought. _You_. But this isn't about you, and you're too selfish to even see that."

"Kate."

"Leave," she commands angrily. "Get out. I don't ever want to see you again."

He departs without another word, but he throws a glance over his shoulder while he waits for the elevator and his heart breaks when he sees her with her face buried in her hands, hiding the tears that he knows he's at least partially responsible for.

For the first time in a long time, he's overtaken by strong feelings of remorse.

* * *

"Bro, you actually found something?" Esposito demands the moment Castle reluctantly answers his ringing phone later that afternoon.

"Yes," he replies glumly.

"Why the hell would you keep it from her?"

"Because she said if I touched the case we'd be done, and I didn't want that to happen," he defends.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I screwed up, okay?" Castle snapped, already on edge from the scolding he'd received from his mother and the 'I told you so' glare his daughter had thrown in his direction. "I've had enough lectures today to last a lifetime so could you spare me another one?"

He hears Esposito huff on the other end of the line, but when the detective speaks again he's not yelling. "You didn't tell her how you got the file?"

"She hasn't asked," the author replies. "But I won't rat you out."

"Damn right you won't," he responds. And then the other end of the line abruptly falls silent.

* * *

Despite the multiple voicemails he's left for Kate, explaining his rationale, Castle doesn't hear from anyone at the precinct for twenty-four hours. Not until the ringing of his phone interrupts the silence the following afternoon. It's Ryan.

"What?" Castle answers miserably. If the detective has called to give him yet another reprimand, he's going to throw his phone across the room.

"Uh, hi?" Ryan asks warily.

"Sorry," he mumbles apologetically. "I was expecting another lecture."

"Yeah, Beckett's seriously pissed at you," he verifies. Not that Castle needed the confirmation. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"You're not mad?"

"I think you're an idiot," he answers honestly. "But I also kind of understand where you're coming from."

Castle furrows his brow though there's no one there to see it. "Thanks?"

"She's working the case."

This piece of information catches Castle off guard. "What?"

"She came in this morning determined to figure it out. I don't know what changed."

"Any leads?" Castle asks.

Ryan fills him in on their latest conversations with Johnny Vong and Dick Coonan. "Beckett's talking to Montgomery now," the cop explains after walking him through Coonan's plea for immunity in exchange for Rathborne. "But he's never going to go for it and she knows it."

"I'll do it," Castle blurts immediately.

"What?"

"The money. I'll pay."

"If this is some misguided attempt to buy back Beckett's favor…"

"It's not," Castle promises. "But it's my fault she's in this situation. The least I can do is help her finally put this thing to rest."

* * *

He finds her in the break room with Ryan and Esposito, who shrink into the background miraculously quickly once she spots him lingering in the doorway.

She immediately turns for the other door. "Beckett…"

"I thought I told you to leave and never come back?" she snaps.

"I'm here to make the payment," he states firmly, unwilling to be deterred by her hostility.

Kate stops in her tracks but doesn't turn to face him. "What?"

"The hundred thousand dollars," he explains. "The city can't pay it, but I can."

It's enough to make her whirl around to face him. "What?"

"To catch Rathborne. If the city won't pay, I will."

"No."

"Beckett…"

"No," she repeats.

"Consider it my apology," he pleads. "And then I'll leave you alone and you'll never have to see me again. I promise."

"How did you even find out about this?" she demands.

"Doesn't matter," he dismisses. "Now, where am I sending the money?"

* * *

He leaves while she's in the locker room cleaning up after Coonan's death. He can't bear to see her in so much pain, tears streaming down her cheeks; all he wants is to wrap her in his arms and make it all go away. But she's made it clear that they're through, that she doesn't want him around, and he did promise to leave her alone so he sneaks out before she has a chance to remind him of this again.

So he's caught completely off guard when the buzzer to the loft rings two evenings later and his mother answers the door to reveal Kate Beckett. She's dressed down into a baggy purple shirt, leggings, and flats, her hair pulled loosely back; she looks soft and serene but also still a little broken.

"Hi," she murmurs, appearing in the doorway to his office a moment later. He's sitting in the dark, but her silhouette is illuminated by the light streaming in from the living room. She looks angelic. Beautiful.

Castle sets aside his glass of scotch, regards her carefully. "I thought you didn't ever want to see me again?"

"I didn't get a chance to thank you."

He furrows his brow in confusion. "For what? Everything went wrong."

"Maybe," she offers with a shrug. "But at least I know who killed her, and I couldn't have figured that out without you."

He's certain he's staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights, but he can't seem to find anything to say in response.

"And I will pay you back," she reiterates her promise from yesterday at the precinct.

"No, you won't," he repeats.

"Castle…"

"No," he says firmly. "This one's on me. I told you, it's my way of apologizing for going behind your back and keeping secrets. I should've just left it alone."

"Maybe," she says again. "But knowing the truth helps." She seems a lot more tentative than she was three days ago when she called him selfish and told him to leave and never come back. He doesn't want to get his hopes up but it's hard not to when she's gazing at him as though she doesn't actually hate him.

"I'm sorry," he offers. He's had a lot of time to think about her words and his decisions and his justifications for how he behaved, and he's begun to realize how selfish it actually was. "I didn't respect your wishes and I kept secrets for my own benefit, and that was wrong."

She regards him warily.

"And I'm sorry about Coonan," he adds. "If it wasn't for me, you'd have been able to figure out who hired him and…"

"That wasn't your fault," she interrupts.

"If I hadn't let him get to me…"

"He would've just found another way to escape," she explains. "One of these days, I'm going to find out who hired him. And I'd like you around when I do."

Castle's eyes widen in surprise. "Really?"

"Really," she confirms, lips curling into the closest thing he's seen to a smile in days. "But if you ever go behind my back again…"

"Not a chance," he promises. "Believe me. I've learned my lesson."

"Okay. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Kate?" he ventures as she turns to leave. Castle rises from his desk chair, crosses the room and comes to a stop in front of her. "Are you okay?"

She nods timidly. "I will be."

"Can I…?" he extends his arms even though he knows he should just let her go, give her space. To his immense surprise, she steps into him and tentatively returns his embrace. They've danced together before but this is the first time he's ever hugged her; she fits in his arms a little too well.

It's over far too soon. Kate steps back, almost meets his eyes before she turns to leave. "Good night, Castle."

He watches her go, his heart overflowing with emotion. "Until tomorrow."

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	19. Chapter 19

**#19: What if… Sal didn't mention the C4 in the bank in 4x07 and the note Castle handed Kate said something completely different?**

* * *

Kate walks through the door and his eyes immediately lock with hers, wide with fear and so blue and overflowing with so many emotions; the same emotions she's doing her best to suppress. She's spent her day being a hostage negotiator and now posing as a paramedic, and it's taking every ounce of energy and concentration she has to not break character.

She holds Castle's gaze as the fake Dr. Quinn pats her down, willing him to understand everything she wants to say to him but can't: that she won't give up until he's safe, that she cares about him so much more than he knows, that – despite the fact that she panicked this morning when he said "tell me you need me" – she does need him. So much.

The female bank robber finishes with her and Kate takes a deep breath, all of her efforts focused on maintaining her composure as she reaches for the gurney and proceeds deeper into the bank full of terrified hostages. She reaches Castle and the epileptic man on the ground whose name is apparently Sal Martino. He relays this information to her in a soft but efficient tone, as though they're complete strangers.

"Listen to me," Kate murmurs as she kneels next to Sal and Castle. She aims her words at their patient as a cover, but she knows Castle understands that she means it to be for him. Just to be sure, she covers his hand with her own. "I want you to know that there are people out there that care about you, so just keep breathing. I promise you, I'm gonna get you out of here."

But then their moment is interrupted by the fake Dr. Huxtable, and together they lift Sal onto the gurney while Castle subtly slips her a piece of paper that's crumpled in his fist.

And then there's no more reason for Kate to stay and she's forced to turn away from her partner and make her way back out onto the sidewalk. She steals one last glance over her shoulder, keeping it short so as to not arouse suspicion, but she hopes it's long enough for Castle to read in her eyes everything she can't say.

The actual paramedics meet her outside the bank and immediately wheel the gurney out of her hands and towards a waiting ambulance. Kate strides away from the bank with the intent of relaying her intel, stopping briefly to assure Alexis that her dad is okay, but the moment she unfolds Castle's note and sees his words she stops in her tracks. He has legible handwriting; there's no possible way she could be misreading it.

 _I love you._

A sudden wave of dizziness overtakes her, and she has to abruptly sit down on the concrete stairs before she collapses. The only reason he take the risk of writing her this note is because he thinks he's not going to make it out alive, and the mere thought unravels her in an instant. She can't lose him. She can't. She'll never recover. Her heart is in so many pieces right now as it is; losing him would shatter it into a million irreparable fragments.

She can't even imagine a life without him.

Kate stares at the words for a moment longer, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths and willing her eyes to stop swimming with tears. He's alive and unharmed and she was able to gather some valuable information about the layout of the bank that will help facilitate rescue of the hostages. He's making it out of there, even if she has to march back through those doors and shoot all the robbers herself.

Castle doesn't get to tell her he loves her – again – without her having a chance to do something about it. She's not fully healed from her shooting, not done working through everything with Dr. Burke, not ready for a relationship. But she loves him and she's come far too close to losing him today for that fact to remain a secret any longer.

For now, though, she has a job to do.

* * *

Kate is on the phone, mid-conversation with Ryan and Esposito, when an earth-shattering explosion rocks the command control van and sends her heart careening into a freefall.

Oh, God.

No no no no no.

There were explosives in there?

She opens the door with her heart in her throat, eyes wide with horror, her body frozen in place as she surveys the scene before her. Officers are ducking and running for cover as pieces of the bank rain down on them amidst the smoke and flames. The scene is chaos and noise and confusion, and the commotion only increases as the hostage team hastens to organize and storm what's left of the bank.

Amidst the madness, someone hands Kate a vest and she snaps into action, strapping it on while she runs, drawing her weapon and joining the group of officers charging through the wreckage in search of survivors.

"Castle," she shouts as they breach what remains of the bank entrance, hears her voice crack with desperation. "Castle! Castle?"

She hears a voice call her name in return and for a split second she thinks she imagined it. But then he says her name again, louder, and she follows the sound, spotting him in the vault with the other hostages, all seemingly unharmed.

He's beaming at her, love and pride evident in his smiling eyes, and she can't help but smile back as she kneels in front of him and pulls out a knife to cut the ties binding his wrists. Kate knows she's grinning like a fool, giving far too much away, but she can't hold it in, doesn't want to. She needs him and she wants him and she loves him, and it's all being amplified by the adrenaline. It comes spilling through the cracks in her wall, and she feels a few bricks tumble away as the feelings force their way through.

Castle's hands fall free and she drops the knife, reaches for him, catching his jaw with her palms. And before she can stop herself, before she can remind herself of all the reasons she's supposed to be waiting, she's kissing him.

His hands rise to cradle her waist and his lips move softly beneath hers for a moment before he breaks the kiss, pulls away enough to search her eyes with his own. Her hands fall to his chest, spreading wide over the soft blue fabric of his shirt.

"Hi," she whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

"Uh, hi," he stammers, looking confused and shocked but also happy. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, the adoring one he saves just for her. It's her favorite smile – because yes, she can admit to herself that she has a favorite smile of his – and it only serves to widen her own grin.

"I'm so glad you're okay." It's a near echo of her own words from just over a year ago, during another of Castle's extremely close brushes with death. Kate forces the memory away. She has enough terrifying memories from today to last a lifetime.

The clearing of a throat breaks the moment and Kate startles, dropping her hands to her thighs and turning to find Martha gazing at her kindly but with her bound wrists raised, waiting for her turn to be freed from her restraints.

Kate apologizes quickly, glancing back at Castle, but he's leaning back against the wall now, the moment gone.

* * *

They don't have another moment alone for the remainder of the afternoon, and it's simultaneously nerve-wracking and agonizing and a relief. He handed her a note that says _I love you_ and she kissed him and there is no gunshot wound or hospitalization or fabricated amnesia to hide behind this time. He knows she read his words, and she knows he remembers her kiss. And she has no idea where this leaves them.

She takes a moment to gaze at the Castle family as they reunite outside the bank before pushing it all aside and forcing herself to focus on the case. The team eventually heads back to the precinct, Castle included after his mother and Alexis are safely in a cab back to the loft, and she and Castle fall back into their usual rhythm immediately. As though it's been a completely normal day. As though there wasn't a hostage situation and an explosion and a kiss and a confession of love. And it would be so easy to just ignore it, pretend it never happened.

It isn't until she's leaning back in her desk chair, gazing at Castle as he dubs himself 'the perfect partner,' that she firmly decides she doesn't want to pretend it never happened. As terrified as Kate is to acknowledge what happened, the events of today were even more terrifying and the impact it had on her is something she can't ignore. She isn't sure what it will mean for them or how to navigate this new territory, but she absolutely adores this man and he deserves to know the truth.

She'll invite him to the Old Haunt, just the two of them and some liquid courage, and hopefully by then her brain will have figured out what to say.

* * *

They end up at the loft instead, with Martha's feast and wine and laughter, and she fits into this little family far too easily. She has enough on her mind as it is, though; she files this observation away for another day.

They linger at the table after dinner and a scrumptious dessert, and the adults are nursing their third glasses of wine when a comfortable silence falls and Alexis excuses herself for the evening. Kate rises to begin the cleanup process, resists Martha and Castle's attempts to shoo her out of the kitchen. They were hostages and then invited her into their home and fed her an obscene amount of delicious food; the least she can do is put away leftovers and wash a few dishes.

In the end Castle joins her, and together they make quick work of it, scooping food into containers and loading the dishwasher. And then it's just the two of them and their wine and the soft whir of the dishwasher. Kate leans one hip against the bar, crosses one foot over the other and folds an arm across her chest, wine glass cradled in her other hand. Castle tops off his own wine and turns off a few lights, bathing the loft in a soft golden glow. She watches his movements over the rim of her glass, the way his blue eyes shimmer in the shadows, soft but intense.

He returns and props himself against the counter next to her, glass in one hand, the other hand stuffed into his pants pocket. He cocks his head, regards her with a hint of hesitation.

"Hell of a day," she offers.

"Hell of a day," he echoes. She manages a small smile before blinking and averting her eyes; the tension of their gaze snaps but it lingers between them still, rife with uncertainty.

"About what happened in the bank," Kate begins, staring into her wine glass as though hoping to find the right words swirling within the deep red liquid.

"It was the heat of the moment," Castle says before she can say more. "If you want to pretend it didn't happen…"

"It wasn't," Kate interrupts. "I mean, it was. But I don't want to ignore it."

"You don't?"

She shakes her head, finally daring to meet his eyes. "I told you I needed time to work through things, and I still do," she confesses. The wine combined with the adrenaline and pure dread of the day are making her share more than she normally would. "But after today…" She reaches into her pants pocket with her free hand, withdraws the crumpled piece of paper from the bank and gazes longingly at his words. "I just… I feel it too. I wanted you to know that."

"Really?" He sounds so hopeful, and when Kate lifts her eyes back to his she finds him gazing at her in wonder.

She ducks her head shyly, hiding her flaming cheeks behind the curtain of her hair. She feels it so strongly it terrifies her, and the mere act of admitting this to him – even in this roundabout way – has her heart fluttering nervously. Her palms are sweaty, her mouth dry, and she's suddenly oddly aware of her tongue. She raises her glass, takes a sip of wine and allows in to linger in her mouth, savoring the rich oak and fruit flavors and buying some time to compose herself.

"Kate," Castle murmurs.

He sets his wine glass on the smooth granite countertop, extends both hands in her direction. She mimics him, pocketing the scrap of paper again and depositing her own glass before reaching out to rest her hands in his upturned palms. Her eyes follow her movements, lingering on their joined hands.

"I know you're not ready yet," he assures her softly, no judgement in his tone.

"I'm trying to be," she whispers, more to herself than him. The words barely make it past the giant bundle of nerves that has taken up residence in her chest. Her weekly sessions with Dr. Burke are exhausting, and she's been forced to face some uncomfortable truths and confront her deepest fears. She hates it. But afterwards, as the weariness fades away, she always feels just a little stronger, a little less broken, a little closer to where she needs to be.

"I know," Castle replies, curling his fingers around her palms and squeezing gently. Her eyes are still fixed on their joined hands, the way they fit together so perfectly. "And I'll wait. For as long as you need."

Kate isn't sure what she ever did to deserve someone so patient and understanding, but she loves him even more for it. She promises herself that one day soon, she will tell him – and show him – exactly how much.

Castle squeezes gently again, tracing soft lines back and forth across the backs of her hands with his thumbs, and she finally drags her eyes away from their connection and up to his face. There's so much written in his eyes and it takes her breath away.

Kate tugs gently, coaxing him nearer until they're toe to toe and she can draw him into a hug. Her arms lace around his lower back and his rise to embrace her firmly. He buries his head in her neck and relaxes into her, and she can feel all the panic and tension and nervousness leave her body now that she's in his arms. She feels at home and safe here, as though they've crawled into their own little cocoon and nothing else matters. She never wants to leave.

"You should stay," Castle says softly, as though he's read her mind. "In the guest room," he adds, lips at her ear.

Kate loosens her grip, steps back, and his hands fall away as well.

She shouldn't. Even in a separate bedroom, she shouldn't. Her defenses are in shambles, her inhibitions lowered by the wine, and she's already fighting the temptation to say 'screw it' to her recovery and kiss him again. Proximity is dangerous.

"You've had a lot of wine," he reasons. "And after today I'm just… not ready for you to leave."

She isn't ready to leave either. She knows what fitful sleep she manages will be riddled with nightmares of the bank explosion and all the horrible alternate endings they were fortunate enough to avoid today. Being under the same roof probably won't stop the nightmares, but it might help. From his words just now, Kate thinks it might help him as well.

"I'll stay," she decides.

* * *

She falls asleep in his guest room, engulfed in a pair of his pajamas, the sweet smell of his aftershave lingering on her cheek from his goodnight kiss.

* * *

Castle, too, drifts peacefully into slumber with a smile on his face and visions of a future – their future – unfolding in his mind, clearer and more tangible than ever before.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


	20. Chapter 20

_I needed some help on the logistics of this one and I came to you guys on Twitter a few weeks ago and received SO MANY suggestions. I couldn't use them all, but even the ones I didn't end up using got the wheels turning and allowed me to finish this one, so thank you!_

* * *

 **#20: What if… they get handcuffed together and trapped in a basement – à la Cuffed – during 3x01 instead, right after spending the entire summer apart?**

He loves this dream.

He's been having variations of it all summer and he never wants it to stop.

Him and Kate.

Sometimes they're overtly sexual, leaving him hot and bothered. Actually... that's what happens most of the time. But sometimes it's more normal, the everyday moments he longs to experience with her. Today is like that. It's softer, more tender. He's in bed with her but they're not naked. They're just sleeping side by side, her head pillowed on his bicep.

Castle sighs contentedly. The dreams aren't usually quite this real. He can feel the pressure of her head against his arm, is acutely aware of the scent of cherries infiltrating his nostrils. Huh. He's never been able to smell her in his dreams before.

He can feel his brain inching towards wakefulness, but he fights it for as long as he can. He knows what reality awaits him when the last vestiges of sleep fall away. It's the same one he's been in all summer, alone and miserable at the Hamptons, missing her fiercely but unable to get her off his mind as he struggles to finish _Naked Heat_.

The space was supposed to help. It was supposed to allow him a chance to get over her, now that her heart belonged to another man.

Gina was supposed to help, too. Spending his summer with another woman should have been the perfect way to get Beckett off his mind. And it had worked at first. Back when he was still so hurt by her rejection that Gina's presence had been a comfort. But Gina headed back to the city after just two weeks, following the fourth time she awoke in the middle of the night to hear him dreaming about Kate.

Despite his efforts, Castle's eyes pry themselves open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light in the room. Or, rather, the lack of light. Even in his half-asleep state, he realizes something isn't right. With all the giant windows, his Hamptons house is never this dark.

He glances around the room, assesses his unknown surroundings. It's dimly lit, light peeking in through a small window, but no overhead electrical sources that he can see. Wherever he is, it's small. There's a giant rectangular object near the opposite wall, but that's about all he can make out.

Castle turns his head to the left, slowly becoming aware of the scent of cherries that's still overwhelming him despite the disappearance of his dream. His eyes land on Beckett, eyes closed, her head on his bicep and chest rising and falling softly in time with her breathing.

He does a double take.

He's obviously still dreaming.

Castle raises his right hand, pinches himself in the side and flinches in pain. Okay, so this is real then? He's not still dreaming?

He furrows his brow. He doesn't remember Beckett coming out to the Hamptons. He doesn't remember driving back to the city, either. And even if he has somehow made it back to Manhattan with no memory of completing the trip, he hasn't decided if he's going back to the precinct. Longing for her up close is liable to be just as painful as missing her from afar. As evidenced by his current situation.

Yeah. This is not ideal. He's feeling a sudden need to insert a substantial amount of distance between them.

Castle attempts to gently maneuver his arm from beneath her head and sit up, only to find himself tugged back down by a harsh pressure around his wrist and he falls back to his elbows.

What the...? He's handcuffed? To her?

His sudden movements seem to have startled Kate awake and her eyes fly open, wide and searching in the muted light until they land on him.

"Castle?"

"Uh, hey."

"What're you... when..." she stammers, brow furrowed. "I thought you were in the Hamptons?"

Okay, so she's clearly as confused as he is.

"So did I."

She takes a moment to look around the room, observe and assess her surroundings. "Where are we?"

"I have no idea."

"I really don't..." she pauses again, brow still heavily furrowed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Being in the Hamptons," he answers. "You?"

"Going to the precinct this morning."

"Was I... there?"

"No, I haven't seen you in months," she snaps.

Wait. Is she angry at him for leaving? He thought she'd be thrilled to have him out of her life.

"We must've been drugged," she decides before he can formulate a reply.

"Uh, yeah, but that's not the worst of our problems."

"What?"

Castle lifts his left wrist until it tugs on hers, drawing her attention.

She whips her head to the left, then back to him. "What the hell? Did you do this?"

"Why would I cuff us?"

"Well I didn't do it."

Castle sighs heavily. "Obviously there's something else going on here."

"Ya think?" she snaps rhetorically as she pushes herself up into a seated position and begins rooting around with her free hand. "My key is gone."

"For the cuffs?"

"So are my badge and gun," she continues. "And my phone."

Castle pats his pockets, finds them all empty. "So is mine. And my wallet and keys."

"Great. So we're cuffed together in a creepy basement with no cell phones," she summarizes.

"Well, I mean... someone will eventually notice we're gone, right?" he offers, aiming for optimism.

"Martha and Alexis?" Kate asks.

"Not if they think I'm still in the Hamptons," he answers. "Though if Alexis doesn't hear from me all day she might start to worry."

"Gina?" she asks, and he doesn't miss the tightening of her facial muscles as she says the name.

Castle huffs a self-deprecating laugh. "There's a reason we got divorced the first time around."

"Oh."

"Demming?"

She drops her gaze to her lap, eyes falling closed.

"You broke up?" he asks. "When?"

"It doesn't matter," Kate answers through gritted teeth. "We need to find a way out of here."

* * *

It takes some finagling but they manage to get to their feet. It's awkward, and the first two attempts end in one of them pulling the other off balance, but at least they've figured out how to stand now. Whoever did this to them hooked their left wrists together, meaning they have to either face each other with their linked arms meeting in the middle, or one of them has to uncomfortably stretch an arm across the other's body in order to walk side by side.

"Seriously?" Castle huffs. It's bad enough that he's stuck in close quarters with her; but to be physically chained to her?

Sometimes the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

"Do Ryan and Esposito know you're here?" he asks as they adjust to their new, frustrating proximity. Kate is glancing all around the room, eyes flitting from place to place, frantically searching for their way out.

"No," she answers. "They're following up another lead."

"Great."

"Do you see a light switch?"

Castle glances around the darkened cement room. "No."

Kate turns towards one side of the room just as Castle takes a step in the opposite direction and their arms catch in the middle, the metal of the cuffs cutting into their wrists and shoulders being yanked against their sockets.

"Castle," she hisses, eyes flashing in anger. "Where are you even going?"

"Why do you always have to lead?" he snaps at the same time. He doesn't know why she's so angry at him, but it's making him furious as well.

"Because I'm the cop. Being in the lead is my job." She tugs her arm back to her side, off-balancing him and sending him stumbling into her. Castle trips over his own foot, slams into her.

"Castle," she hisses again.

"Are you always like this in the morning?"

She fixes him with a livid glare.

He bites back an angry retort, gestures stiffly with his free hand. "Fine, lead the way."

* * *

They find a light switch, but with the illumination they can see how solid the walls are and that there's no door or window they have any chance of getting through. The only thing they have to work with is a giant metal freezer that's sealed with a padlock – not that they probably want to know what's inside it, Castle thinks.

"Wait a second," he says suddenly.

"What?"

"There was a phone call."

"When?"

"I'm remembering something," he explains. "From before. A woman called me."

"Of course she did."

"No, not…" he huffs an annoyed sigh. "Not like that. She was an acquaintance. She called me and said she was in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I don't know," Castle furrows his brow, squints as though forcing the burgeoning memory into focus. "I don't remember if she told me."

"Did you go help her?"

"I must have," he assumes. "How else would I have ended up here?"

Kate tilts her head, shrugs one shoulder. It makes sense.

"I don't remember where I went, though. Or how I got there."

Contemplative silence falls for a long moment before Kate speaks suddenly. "There was an apartment."

"How do you know?"

"I'm remembering too," she explains. "Whatever they gave us must be wearing off. I remember an apartment."

"Following up a lead?"

"Probably."

"So then… I was at the apartment too?"

"What's the name of the woman who called you?" she asks suddenly, eyes flashing with a flicker of understanding.

"Maya," he answers. "Maya Santori."

Kate's face falls, and in the split second before she speaks, comprehension dawns on him as well. "Castle, Maya Santori is the name of the victim."

* * *

Armed with a renewed bout of motivation now that they have a preliminary understanding of how they ended up here, Castle and Kate redouble their escape efforts. There's a hatch in the ceiling, and if they can just slide the freezer underneath it and climb on top, he can probably hoist her up there to open it.

Their attempts to move it, however, end in heavy breathing and sweaty foreheads, the freezer unwilling to budge from its position.

Castle runs his free hand over his forehead, nods in the direction of the padlock. "I can open this. I'm just not sure we want to."

Kate isn't sure she wants to know what's inside either, but at this point it's probably their best option.

* * *

Castle has been attempting to crack the padlock for half an hour when Kate unexpectedly flinches.

"What?"

"I don't know," she answers, turning her back to him. "Something hurts." She reaches around with her free hand, lifts the hem of her shirt to expose her lower back. "Is there…"

"Uh," Castle hesitates at the sudden change in demeanor. He tentatively drops his gaze to the exposed skin, automatically reaches out his free hand to examine affected area. It's red and warm, soft and smooth but with a small raised area in the center.

"Castle…" her voice is softer, much more tentative than it's been since… well, since they first awoke to this confusing mess.

He jerks his hand away as though he's been burned. "Uh, right. Sorry. Yes, there's a needle mark."

Kate tugs her shirt back into place with far more force than necessary. "Well, that explains how they drugged us."

"Maybe this container is full of drugs and needles," Castle suggests, only half-joking.

"If we ever actually get it open," she disparages with a roll of her eyes.

He sits back on his feet, huffs angrily. "Why are you so mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you, I'm mad that we're cuffed together and locked in a basement."

"Yes, and I'm trapped right here with you, so there's no point taking it out on me," Castle points out.

Kate sighs, moves her left arm closer to him so he can reach the padlock again. "Sorry."

* * *

The padlock finally released and they opened the metal freezer to find it full of knives and chains, which was infinitely more horrifying than anything Castle imagined they might find. The knives were sufficient, though, to help them break their way through a stucco section of the wall to rescue the person they could hear breathing on the other side.

While they worked, Kate recounted a newly-recalled memory of another victim, a young, female science teacher named Chloe whose body was found when it came tumbling out a fifth-floor window. Lanie had found Maya's address written on a piece of paper in Chloe's hand, thus sending her to Maya's apartment while Ryan and Esposito stayed behind to talk with the boyfriend.

And yet, none of that explains how they've now found themselves trapped in a basement with a tiger. They're standing precariously atop the freezer that they managed – with the help of the obscene amounts of adrenaline coursing through their bodies – to flip up on its end. It's far from ideal, and the tiger has already jumped up at them three times, but it's the only option.

"I wanted to go with you," Kate confesses as the tiger paces around the base of the freezer, licking her lips hungrily, eyes fixed on them.

"What?"

"To the Hamptons," she clarifies. "I broke up with Tom. I was going to say yes to your invitation."

The tiger jumps again and they step back as far as possible as the freezer wobbles precariously. They're facing each other, toe to toe, joined hands pressed between them. There isn't a lot of room up here and the tiger's paw came dangerously close to their legs on that last swipe.

"Why didn't you?"

Kate purses her lips and raises and eyebrow, as though the answer is obvious; as Castle thinks back to their parting conversation it's suddenly all so clear. "Gina."

The pain that flashes through her eyes says it all.

"That's why you're so mad at me?"

Kate sighs. "I'm not… mad," she confesses. Below them, the tiger paces around the base of the freezer, preparing for her next assault. "Not at you, at least. I was mad at myself for missing my chance."

Castle maneuvers his cuffed wrist so he can tangle his fingers with hers, and she inserts her fingers into the gaps between his without hesitation. "There's still a chance," he promises even as the tiger raises up on her hind legs again, pawing at the giant metal container, threatening to knock it over. "Assuming we get out of here."

* * *

They make it out but just barely, thanks to a last-minute rescue by Ryan and Esposito. Montgomery is there too, and all three are surprised and confused by Castle's presence. And, it seems, angry at him on Beckett's account.

Ryan and Espo fill them in on all the details, how the two victims – and ultimately a third as well – were part of a counterfeiting operation gone awry, and how the other two members of the operation – who, it turns out, are the killers – also have connections to an exotic animal smuggling ring. Hence the tiger.

It's a long while before they all begin the drive back to the Twelfth. Castle winds up in the car with Kate, just like normal. Except everything about this day has been so far from normal, including the fact that he's in the car with her again at all.

They don't speak, despite the fact that there's so much to say. True, they were facing death by tiger, but she admitted that she'd wanted to go to the Hamptons with him, and he implied that a relationship between them was still a possibility. He meant it, but that doesn't necessarily mean she still feels the same way. Or that she's not still mad at him. Despite what she said earlier, he has a feeling there's some lingering anger.

But the tension grows as the silence stretches, and finally Castle breaks the quiet.

"I'm sorry."

She glances at him, turns back to the road. "For what?" she asks after a moment.

He shrugs. "Leaving. Flaunting Gina in front of you."

She hums a noncommittal response.

"Hurting you," Castle adds. "That was never my intention. I thought I was doing you a favor by leaving. I didn't know you were planning to break up with him."

Now it's Kate turn to shrug. "It's not like I gave you a reason to believe I was."

"Well I'm still sorry."

She glances his way briefly again, a soft smile on her face. "Thanks."

"And uh," he hesitates before going for broke, "I meant what I said back there. It's not too late. Not for me, at least."

Her cheeks flush pink and she dips her chin enough for her hair to fall forward, concealing the rush of color. It's longer than it was last time he saw her, falling down beyond her shoulders and providing a fairly effective curtain.

"I'm not saying no," Kate says after a long silence. "But I think we need to let things get back to normal first. Is that okay?"

"Does normal mean I'm your shadow again?"

She bites down on her bottom lip but it's not enough to conceal her grin. "Yes."

He gets to come to work with her every day again, and she's smiling at him timidly, and she's just alluded to a future in which they're more than just detective and shadow.

Yeah. He's more than okay with that.

* * *

 _Thoughts?_


End file.
